Bleeding Love
by Ms-Maggs
Summary: CSIs should know that all broken hearts eventually bleed out. A post-episode story for 9x5 focusing on my favorite dysfunctional characters dealing with case files and one too many crimes of the heart. Warnings: slash, crime violence
1. Chapter 1

**Bleeding Love – Part 1**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

_AN: This is a post-episode fic for 9x5(Leave Out All the Rest) and contains spoilers through that episode. _

Taking a seat at the interrogation table, Jim Brass eyed the trembling eighteen year old murder suspect seated before him. "Tell me, Travis, why would a clean-cut kid with a 4.0 average and a football scholarship at USC, brutally murder the girl next door?" Narrowing his eyes, he rephrased the question, "Why'd you kill Maggie McMahon?" When he didn't get a reply, he barked, "Why did you kill your sweet little girlfriend, Mr. Wilson?"

"I didn't k…." The word caught in the terrified young man's throat. "I didn't do it." He anxiously ran his fingers through his blond wavy hair. "I swear."

"Do you believe him?" Jim queried, glancing at Stokes, who was leaning against the wall. "Because I don't believe him." In the hallway, he had asked his co-worker to play the role of good 'ol boy, good cop to his jaded bad cop. "We have enough to book him, so…"

"If you don't mind." As planned, Nick pulled up a chair next to the anxious jock and said, "I'd like to ask him a few more questions first."

"It's your breath to waste." On cue, Jim stood and huffed, "I'll be back."

Fully immersed in his role, Nick kindly asked the profusely sweating jock, "Are ya thirsty? We have a water cooler at the end of the hall."

Grateful for what he had previously been denied, Travis nodded, "Please."

The CSI motioned for the uniformed officer to take a walk. It was a routine he had played out with Jim and Officer Stanton dozens of times. "Could you grab him a big cup? Thanks." Returning his attention to the jock, Nick flashed a disarming smile. "You know I played ball in college too."

Forgetting the horror of his situation for a moment, Travis asked, "What position?"

"Receiver, like you." Nick's grin expanded. "Nothin' in the world beats catchin' a game winnin' ball and hearin' the crowd go wild. Nothin'. Not even sex."

Returning the CSI's smile, Travis said, "Best moment of my life was senior year, catching the game winning ball at the state championships."

"I bet you partied big that night." Placing his right hand over his heart, Nick sweetly said, "You know when I left for college, I swore to my mama that I'd always be the same respectful, dependable, God-fearin' small town kid she'd raised. I had every intention of keepin' that promise too, but after my first big game at A&M…" He shook his head and heaved a regretful sigh. "When I walked off the field to the roar of 83,000 fans, every one of them thinkin' I was a hero, hell, I forgot every promise I ever made to my mama and the Lord." He leaned closer. "Girls threw themselves at me after that. Reeeally nice lookin' girls, but not really nice girls. I'm sure it works the same today."

"Yeah," Travis quietly concurred.

"I think you and I have somethin' else in common. When we left home on our scholarships, we left girlfriends behind. Nice girls, who looked nice enough to take to the prom, but who looked nothin' like the chicks givin' it away for free on campus. My girlfriend's name was Suzie Walker, yours was Maggie McMahon, may she rest in peace." The seasoned CSI studied the suspect's eyes. "These last few months I bet you were livin' like a god on campus, bangin' every babe who tosses her thong at you, while poor little clueless Maggie was back here wearin' a purity ring and pullin' straight A's in high school. That's a recipe for disaster right there. What happened when you came back to town for homecoming this week, jocko? Did ya get pissed off when Maggie refused to give ya what you were used to havin' on Saturday night?"

His emotions returning with a vengeance, Travis squeaked, "I didn't plan on…"

"Killin' her?" Nick snipped. "You're sayin' she accidentally got cut up?"

"No, I didn't want to…I…I took her out to our secret spot on the field to..." Staring at a worn patch of floor, the guilt-ridden boyfriend, confessed, "I didn't want to tell her over the phone."

"Tell her what, man?"

"That I cheated on her. That I wanted to break up, that it was…over."

"Oh, it's over alright," Nick coolly replied, "your girlfriend is on a slab in the morgue. That's as over as it gets. Yep, no graduation day for Maggie, or wedding bells, or honeymoon." Watching the boy fall apart, he went for the kill. "She didn't die a virgin though, because you slept with her before you broke up with her…before you fought with her…" though gritted teeth he added, "before you left her to bleed out on a blanket under the stars."

"No!"

"No, you didn't sleep with her?"

"No!" Dizzy and confused, Travis corrected his answer. "I mean yes, I slept with her, but no I didn't kill her. She was alive when I left her there." Lifting his eyes, he pleaded for the CSI to believe him. "I thought if I slept with her that night that maybe I could go back to USC and not want the other girls, that maybe seeing Maggie once a month would be enough, but by the time we were done, I realized how stupid I was for thinking that and I couldn't even look at her. She knew something was wrong and when she pushed for an answer, I confessed everything that had happened at school, and then I told her what I had come home to say. She started bawling and begging me not to break up with her. We had music when we went to the field to fool around. Maggie had her shuffle in the player and she blasted _Bleeding Love_. When she started singing the words as she cried…I couldn't take it." Soaking his USC t-shirt with tears, he remorsefully said, "I had to leave."

"No, you **chose **to leave." His anger mounting, Nick snarled, "You took your high school sweetheart's cherry, then told her you had to break up with her because you wanted to screw sluts at USC without feeling guilty, and while she was reeling from the shock of all that, you decided that the best thing **for you** would be to leave a naked and distraught seventeen year old girl alone on a deserted field at midnight with no way to get home!" Nick glared at the bastard. "I bet your mama's gonna real proud of you when she comes back to town and hears that story."

"I know I should have stayed!" Travis screamed, "I'm guilty of not staying, of not making sure she got home safely, but I didn't kill her!"

"I don't know if you killed her or not," Nick flatly told the blubbering jock, "but I'm absolutely certain that you're responsible for Maggie not bein' alive today."

Accepting the truth, the young man groveled, "I'm sorry."

"Don't tell **me** you're sorry." Lurching out of his chair, Nick yelled, "Tell Maggie's parents you're sorry they had to ID their daughter's body at the morgue! Tell Maggie's kid sister you're sorry she's an only child now!"

The totality of his actions overwhelming him, Travis grabbed his gut. "I'm gonna be sick."

"Good!" Nick stood by and watched the boy wretch. "Here comes that water you were askin' for, Romeo." He nodded at the returning cop. "Sorry about the smell. I'll make sure janitorial is called ASAP." Brass, who had been watching from behind the glass, was already in the hall waiting for him.

"You really have a knack for making them puke."

"It's a gift." Shaking his head, the tired CSI grumbled, "He's guilty of bein' a horny, self-centered jock, and a shitty friend, but I don't think he's the killer, Jim."

"My thoughts exactly." Brass checked his watch. "Shit, it's almost nine. I have to go meet the new Undersheriff and play nice with others for an hour. Text me if the DNA results come in."

"Will do." Nick continued toward the building exit with his co-worker. "I really need some fresh air."

"I hear Montana still has some." Jim slapped on his sunglasses before stepping outside. "Maybe that's where Sara went."

"Hell, I don't think Grissom even knows where she went this time."

"He doesn't," Brass overshared before heading to his car.

Just as he was debating taking a walk for an hour, Nick saw Maggie McMahon's parents exiting the building, consoling one another. Quickly walking in the opposite direction, he sighed, "No rest for the grieving or the weary."

* * *

"Did you get some sleep?" Catherine remarked upon entering Gil's office and seeing her friend looking rested for the first time in a month.

Grissom removed his glasses and rocked back in his chair. "Twelve hours to be exact." Knowing his friend would jump to the wrong conclusions, he opted not to mention he slept at Heather's.

"I take it you heard from Sara."

"Yes, I did. She's doing well." His lover's words replaying in his head, Grissom quietly added, "She's on a research boat, pursuing her Ph.D, and she's…happy."

"I'm glad someone is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Still aching over Warrick's loss, Catherine vented, "You're a zombie, Nick's shutting down, Greg won't shut up – he's dabbing his eyes in creepy counselor Alwick's office on a regular basis, Hodges is…Hodges, and Riley is too damn fresh and perky for me to stomach when I'm feeling ancient and exhausted." Dropping into a guest chair, she heaved a sigh, "Next time you talk to Sara, ask her if there is any extra space on the boat."

Grissom silently prayed for an opportunity to ask Sara that very question, but on his own behalf. "I will."

* * *

"I promise," Greg snipped into his cell phone while navigating the bustling lab hallway.

"Don't get snippy with me, Gregory."

"Mom...." Ducking into an unoccupied layout room, he sweetly said, "Look, you know I love you and you know there's nothing I'd like more than to be feasting on your home cooking on Thanksgiving, but it's just not possible. We're neck-deep in backlog, but the deal is we work through it now and then we all get a week off at Christmas. I've seen the memo, the department is bringing in a relief team. I have it in writing. I will definitely be home on Christmas."

"God willing." The always overly concerned mother let her darkest thought slip, "I'm sure Warrick Brown made the same promise to his family right before he was blown to pieces."

Closing his eyes, Greg forced the image of Warrick's autopsy photos from his mind. "We had an agreement. We agreed to focus on the positive, remember?"

"You're right, honey, I'm sorry." Connie Sanders moved on to an equally irritating subject. "How's your love life, sweetheart? Seeing anyone new?"

The exasperated son rolled his eyes. "Mom, I too tired to date my hand, no less a person."

"That's code for I'm still too hung up on…"

"We had an agreement about that too, mother."

"Honey, it's never going to work out. Can't you see that? I can. I bet Sarah Palin can see it from her house."

Rather than yelling at her to mind her own business for the millionth time, he opted for a convenient truth, "Sorry, my break is over, I have to get back to work."

"But you work the night shift and it's ten in the morning."

"Love you, mom!" He pretended not to hear her 'overworked and underpaid' lecture. "Tell dad I emailed him that stuff he asked for, and give Nana and Papa a hug for me. Bye!" After snapping his phone shut, he took advantage of the soundproof room and followed his counselor's orders, releasing his frustration in a primal scream. "Wow, that really does feel good." Before he could congratulate himself for getting a grip, Nick sailed into the room and ruined his peace of mind.

"Hey, do you know the song _Bleedin' Love_?"

"Too well." Greg stared at Nick, who was zoned out thumbing though a case file and ignoring him. "Hello?"

"Huh?"

"Why'd you ask me about the song?"

"Sorry, I've got a million things on my mind. That case, the high school girl on the football field. I was questioning her boyfriend and he said he left her on the field 'cause she started singin' along with _Bleedin' Love_. I thought maybe there might be somethin' in the lyrics."

"Maybe this will help you figure things out." Fishing out his iPod from his pocket, Greg said, "You'll find the song under the playlist titled 'Love sucks'." With that he strolled out of the room whistling the song's chorus.

"Hey, Greg!" Nick stepped into the hall. "Sanders!" When it was clear that he was being ignored, Nick returned to the layout room, took a seat on the floor, and stuffed the iPod's buds, into his ears. "Whatever." He shook his head as he scrolled through the alphabetized playlists: Acid Rock, Bob Marley, Country Crap, Greg is a Hopeful Romantic, Love Sucks, Mommy Wouldn't Approve, Schoolhouse Rock, Sex Grinds, Somebody Shoot Me, Our Songs.

Denying his curious mind, Nick forced himself to focus on the McMahon case and selected _Bleeding Love_. He discovered the song's first line was shockingly autobiographical. _'Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain. Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain. Time starts to pass; before you know it you're frozen…'_

* * *

"_If a relationship can't go forward, it withers." _

Grissom paused the video to study Sara's eyes. "She really believes I want her to move on." And why wouldn't she after he had spent years pushing her away? "That's not what I want," he whispered to the grainy image on his laptop screen. "I don't want this job, the lab, my career." His fingertips grazing her cheek, he uttered the words Sara had been waiting to hear for nearly a decade, "I don't need any of this, I just need you."

But was it too late? Drowning in regret, he wished he could turn back time and be the man that Sara had always needed him to be, instead of a romantic coward who had disappointed her time and time again. Looking back, it was easy to see that her heartbroken departure was long overdue. She had been patiently waiting for far too long. She deserved better, and when he couldn't give it to her, she had no choice but to look for it elsewhere. On a boat. In the middle of nowhere. Anywhere but Vegas.

He hit play.

"_You don't have to worry about me anymore." _

Watching Sara force a smile, he could tell she was desperately trying to close old wounds.

* * *

'_You cut me open and I keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love'_. Nick continued scanning the lyrics he had jotted down, his eyes stopping at a particularly poignant line. _'But nothing's greater than the rush that comes with your embrace. And in this world of loneliness I see your face'_. Suddenly case file analysis was replaced with happy memories playing like movies in his mind. "Shit." The next thing he knew he was helplessly scrolling to the playlist titled 'Schoolhouse Rock' and scanning the song list for _Interjections!_ "Good times." By the time his favorite part of the song came on, the depressed CSI was grinning like a fool and enthusiastically tapping and signing along to the tune. "Interjections! Show excitement. Oh! Or emotion. Hey! They're generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong."_  
_

"Nicky!" Catherine called from the open doorway. Waving to get his attention, she asked, "Why are you holed up in here doing whatever that was you were doing?"

After tugging out the ear buds, he replied, "Hey, gimme a break. I just worked eleven hours. I was takin' five freakin' minutes to clear my head before I dive back into the pile of paperwork on my desk."

"Don't snap at me, I'm just the messenger."

"Sorry."

Strutting over, she handed over an assignment slip. "Day shift is working an 'all hands on deck' and a call just came in. Grissom wants you, me, Sanders, and the perky blonde to take it."

"No way. I can't handle another case."

"Wait, I didn't even tell you the best part, Mr. Clean - it's another S&M freak show. Two DBs and a whole lot of leather." Her squeamish pal's predictable look of disgust didn't disappoint. "There's a chance it's connected to our unsolved S&M case." She tapped her watch. "Meet me out back in five. I want to ride with you, not the newb."

"I'm drivin'."

"Yes, Master," she teased, trying to get him in the spirit of the case.

"Ha ha," Nick grumbled, unamused. Once his coworker was gone, he returned his attention to Greg's iPod, opening the 'Our Songs' playlist. Much to his surprise, disappointment, and relief, every song was still there. "Shit." He gently banged his head against the wall. "Shouldn't have looked."

**

* * *

****ANs:**

Because some episodes breed plot bunnies that can't be ignored! And after being immersed in political debate, social work, and waaaaaaay too much reality, I needed to spend a little time in a fictional world.

As with some of my other stories - the characters will be fleshed out over time and backstory told in pieces that are put together to form a clearer picture. Should a character's behavior seem odd at some point, it's because of something that hasn't been revealed in the story yet.

* I added this note on 11/27 in response to one reader's concern as to why I had to put *my* politcal/social issue comments in the story - As always, points of view (on issues and politics for example) belong to the character who is speaking them, not necessarily the author. The story takes place in Nov 2008 and having Greg's politically liberal mom crack a Palin joke is Greg's mom being in character, not the author trying to take down Palin :) Greg being raised in a liberal household where Anti-Bush political snark is the norm, means that Greg would be more likely to let some snark slip. Nick was raised in a conservative Republican household and their comments would reflect that. In a future chapter, when a vegan character talks about unjust treatment of animals, that's the character staying in character, not me trying to make every reader a vegan or feel bad about eating meat (I happened to write that scene while eating chicken salad for lunch :D ). I hope that clears things for anyone else who was wondering :)

Thanks for reading!

Maggs


	2. Chapter 2

**Bleeding Love – Part 2**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

Vartann stood on the steps of the upscale suburban home waving at the approaching CSIs. "Shoulda wore your waders, it's a bloodbath in there."

Removing her sunglasses, Catherine teased her favorite cop, "Thanks for ruining the surprise."

"Yeah," Riley stepped in front of her female co-worker. "Shame on you, Detective, I bet you spoil movie endings too."

Recently divorced and eternally attracted to blondes, Vartann didn't miss a beat. "Go to the movies with me on Saturday and you can find out for yourself, CSI Adams."

Miffed that the newbie kept usurping her role as the center of male attention, Catherine rolled her eyes in Nick's direction.

Curving her lips into a naughty smile, Riley flirtatiously answered, "How can I say no to a man who owns handcuffs?"

"I own handcuffs," Greg announced with a chuckle.

"Yeah, but you don't know how to use 'em." Vartann gave the geek an alpha dog pat on the back. "But nice try, Scout."

"Okay, people." Nick tugged a pair of gloves from his pocket. "Comedy hour over, we have a job to do. Riley, you're on the outside."

"Tell me something I don't know." Grabbing her kit, she accepted the assignment with a smile. "I'm on it."

"Right this way folks." Vartann motioned to follow him through the picture-perfect living room and down the hall. "All the action took place in the master bedroom with the killer exiting through the French doors leading from the bedroom to the back patio. The female vic is 37 year old Donna Clarkson, the co-owner of the house. Married to Michael Clarkson, who is not the male vic. They have two kids, both dropped off at school at 7:45 this morning by Mrs. Clarkson."

"And the husband?" Catherine queried, always suspecting the husband when a dead wife is found.

"He's in route," Vartann confirmed. "He's an ER doc at Summerlin. I've already confirmed he arrived at the hospital for a 6 a.m. shift and never left the ER floor. Our male vic is Kevin Vasser, 52, whose residence is right next door. His wife has also been accounted for. She's a preschool teacher at Summerlin Christian Academy and was in her classroom since 7:30 this morning."

"So much for the 'spouse did it in a jealous rage' easy solve," Greg remarked before peering into the bedroom. "Whoa." Even by Vegas domestic violence standards, the murders were grisly. "The spouses didn't do this in a jealous rage, but someone did." The male victim had been carved up while tied to the bed wearing only a black leather gag and a dog collar, and the female victim shoved through the large glass mirror attached to her antique vanity table.

"Hey," David Phillips was jotting notes in the corner of the room. "Carotid arteries completely severed on both vics, so I'd say exsanguination is a safe bet."

"Yeah." Nick carefully placed his kit on a clean patch of carpet. "Looks like the woman was sliced before she was shoved through the mirror."

"She looks posed." Catherine noted the busted bottles of designer perfume littering the table and floor.

"I think he watched her die." Greg pointed to male vic. "Because he didn't vomit after his throat was slit."

"The husband just arrived and is apparently out front losing his mind," Vartann announced after lowering his radio. "I'll be back."

Grabbing a framed photo of the family at Disneyland, Catherine said, "Unlike the balding, overweight vic, the husband has the whole package – tall, dark, and handsome."

Greg peered at the picture. "So you're wondering why the babe was bedding a beast when she had a beauty?"

"Maybe she wasn't sleepin' with him," Nick answered. "Maybe she couldn't dominate her husband and he couldn't get kinky with his conservative wife, so they decided to be each other's freakshow on the sly."

"Or..." After snapping a photo for evidence, Greg held up five $100 bills. "Maybe she's a high-priced neighborhood hottie for hire?"

"Suburban trick gone wrong?" Catherine mused, completely numb to the gore surrounding her. "Reminds me of that case about a year ago where the wife was doing neighbors for cash while her Army husband was serving in Iraq."

"I worked that one." David stood and rotated his stiff neck. "The john was caught dead wearing frilly pink satin panties, lipstick, and a blonde wig."

"Hmmm, what would Freud say about that being a vivid memory for you?" Greg snickered.

The straight laced coroner anxiously cleared his throat and confessed, "I notice lingerie because I buy my wife a piece every month." When he saw his comrades were skeptical, he explained, "When I first started working with Doc he told me the secret to a happy marriage is to buy your wife flowers every week, lingerie every month, and jewelry on Valentine's Day, your anniversary, and her birthday."

"There you have it boys, the top secret formula for marital success." Catherine grinned at the perpetual bachelors in the room. "Now all you need to do is find desperate women willing to tolerate your quirks, emotional baggage, and crappy work schedules."

Snapping photos of the dead wife while listening to the shocked husband shrieking in the living room, Nick said, "No offense to Mrs. SuperDave, but having a wife lost its appeal for me a while ago."

"Hell, being a wife is far worse than having one." Staring at the formally happy couple's blood-spattered wedding portrait, Catherine recalled her initial optimism on matrimony. "Dave, I hope you and your wife are the exception in this town of unhappy endings."

"Uh, where's the new plucky girl?" The happily married man was tired of his jaded co-workers bringing him down.

"Nick banished her from the house," Greg answered without glancing up from the corpse. "I think he was afraid we'd banter about sex toys if we worked in the same room."

Holding up a blindfold and a pair of clamps, Catherine teased, "And we all know how toy talk makes Nicky squirm."

Ignoring the bait, Nick asked, "Did Vartann say who discovered the bodies?"

"I heard it was the pool boy," Dave answered, as he walked out of the room. "He saw the French doors were open and took a peek."

Snapping off his gloves, Nick said, "I saw a pool service truck parked on the street, so the pool boy must still be here. I'll be back."

* * *

"You're back." Heather greeted Gil with an inviting smile. "Your timing is perfect. I'm between clients and I just made a fresh pot of tea."

Grateful for the warm welcome, Grissom entered the house.

"Did you feel rested?" she asked, shutting the front door.

"Most definitely."

"I'm glad I could help." Strolling down the hall, Heather assured the world-weary man, "I meant what I said, the bed is yours for as long as you like."

"And your company?" he asked with a curious lilt.

The dominatrix turned psychologist grinned. "My company is yours for as long as **I** like."

* * *

"The pool boy is all yours, Stokes." Officer Mendez pointed to the dazed young man sitting in a patio chair. "Name's Zach Litwell. Says he was hired by Mrs. Clarkson last year. Two neighbors confirmed his truck pulled up at nine and they saw him run screaming from the house a few minutes later."

"Thanks." Nick pulled up a chair. "Hello, Zach, I'm Nick Stokes with the Las Vegas Crime Lab." He noted the boy's grey muscle shirt and faded jeans weren't bloody, but the outside edge of his right shoe was clearly stained. "I need to ask you some questions and get some information from you."

"I already told the cops I just found the bodies, I didn't kill them."

"I know you didn't kill 'em, because whoever killed them got covered in blood spatter and you only have blood on your shoe."

When the boy finally peered out from under his floppy tuft of platinum blonde hair, Nick curiously asked, "How old are you?" His guess was not a day over seventeen.

"Twenty-one."

"Do I look like I'm workin' the rope at a club?" Nick rephrased his question, "Tell me the age on your official Nevada state driver's license."

The officer nodded, "I was skeptical too, but I ran his ID. He turned twenty-one a few weeks ago and his record is squeaky clean, save one parking ticket. I also checked…" When his radio squealed, the cop said, "If you're okay, they need me at the tape." Even though it had been years since the buried alive incident, he still hated leaving Stokes alone at a scene.

"I'm fine, thanks for askin'." As Mendez darted off, Nick refocused his attention on the pool boy. "How long have you been working for Mrs. Clarkson?"

"Cleaning pools?" the young man jittered.

The response sent up a red flag. "Why? Was she payin' you for work other than cleanin' pools?"

Averting his eyes, Zach shook his head, "N…no."

Easing back in his chair, Nick rambled, "Life in Vegas sucks without a pool and jacuzzi in your backyard. Neighborhoods like this, everyone has a pool. My job takes me all over and in my travels I see a lot of pool service trucks parked on the street. Your truck…" He pointed over his shoulder, "is top of the line. So are your watch, jeans, and shoes. Your hair is dyed blonde, your nails are manicured, and I bet every of inch of you is waxed. If mommy and daddy were rich, you wouldn't be cleanin' pools, and what you make cleanin' pools isn't enough to pay your upkeep, so getting back to my original question, was Mrs. Clarkson payin' you for work other than cleanin' her pool? Inside jobs maybe?"

Terrified of being busted, Zach shrieked, "You think I was her boy toy?"

"No," Nick chuckled at the thought. "No, but I think there's a good chance that she was payin' you to be a toy in whatever kind of game she had goin' on with dead Mr. Vasser in there. I don't know, but maybe as the husband of a Christian preschool teacher livin' on the DL, he didn't feel it was wise to hang out in gay bars lookin' for a twink to fulfill his kink."

"Interesting theory."

Nick shot the kid a look. "C'mon, Zach, we both know you didn't come here to clean the pool this morning. You didn't take any pool cleaning supplies out of your truck and you didn't change out of your nice shoes before you entered the backyard. Admit it, you were here for another kind of job."

"I don't have sex for cash." His voice cracking, the former street boy quietly said, "Not anymore."

"Where'd you grow up?"

"Utah."

"When did you come to Vegas?"

"Senior year. My mother's boyfriend kicked me out and I knew a guy who was going to UNLV who said I could stay with him. When that didn't work out I couldn't go back home, so…you know." He shrugged. "I did what I needed to do until I didn't."

It was a story that Nick had heard from too many young men and women over the years. "And what prompted the career change? Did you just wake up one day full of self esteem and decide you were done being exploited by perverts? Because even though that's the kind of story I want to hear, it's not one I hear very often in this town."

"One morning I woke up in the ER with a busted face, six broken bones, and a skull fracture. The need for a career change was pretty obvious."

"Consider yourself lucky that you woke up in the ER, because the other option was the morgue."

"That's why I started cleaning pools with a crew and after I saved up enough, I bought some supplies at Walmart, slapped a sign on my beater, and went independent. That's how I met Mrs. Clarkson." The image of her dead body jarring him back to the present, tears pooled in Zach's eyes. "She took care of me. She was way nicer than my mom had ever been. She fed me breakfast and lunch, washed my clothes, and…"

"And you paid her back by givin' it away for free to her neighbor?"

"No, no it wasn't like that. Mrs. Clarkson didn't take advantage of me, she was helping my career."

"Your pool boy career?"

"No, my acting career." Trusting the investigator, Zach shared, "It was a legal acting job, because I was playing a role and not having sex with the guy. That's what Mrs. Clarkson said. She checked it out with her accountant and everything. It was easy money, because Mr. V always wanted the same scenario. All I had to do was get naked and tease him while Mrs. Clarkson humiliated and punished him for his impure thoughts. I made more money in thirty minutes than I did dancing on the bar at Q all night, and you know how busy the Q is on a Friday night."

"Can't say that I do."

"Right." Zach smirked. "Don't ask, don't tell."

Ignoring the bait, Nick said, "Know anyone who wanted Mrs. Clarkson or Mr. Vasser dead?"

"She seemed pretty scared about her husband finding out about the business. She always talked about taking things really big. We were gonna be business partners. She said there was a huge need in town for role play businesses ever since Lady Heather's shut down. I hate to talk bad about someone who's dead, but Mr. V had some heavy-duty baggage and Mrs. Clarkson said there were thousands of guys like him who would gladly open their wallets in exchange for a safe place to let their freak flags fly - married men and women, conservatives, people in the public eye…guys like you." Leaning closer he whispered, "You were right about the extra job paying my bills. I don't know what I'm gonna do now that…"

"Hey, Zach, read my badge. It says Forensics not Animal Services." Nick shook his head as he jotted notes. "I don't take in lost puppies." _Not anymore._

* * *

"More tea, Gil?" Perched on the edge of the sofa, Heather held up the china pot.

"No, thank you." Grissom relaxed against the cushions.

Noting the time, Heather said, "Sorry, I can't stay, I have a gentleman due to arrive in ten minutes."

"I thought you specialized in couples therapy?"

"I do, but when a couple isn't making any progress together, I find it most effective to counsel them individually for a while."

Thinking of his relationship with Sara, Gil softly asked, "Why do you think some couples can't progress together?"

"Usually it's one of two reasons." Setting down her cup and saucer, Heather looked her patient/friend in the eyes. "One or both of them has a secret or problem they can't discuss in front of the other, and as long as that roadblock remains, no progress can be made. We either work out the issue during individual sessions, or if it's something they can't or don't want to change, like a fetish, then I try to get the person to the point where they are comfortable confessing their secret to their partner."

"If the partner can handle the secret, the couple progresses."

"Yes, but sometimes the secret is a deal breaker." She smiled as she stood. "Not every woman can handle the fact that her husband wants to wear a diaper and be swaddled."

Recalling the Eiger case and his awkward trip to the Forever Baby store with Nick, Grissom nodded. "Maybe some things really are better left unsaid."

"That line of thinking is exactly how I made a fortune at the Dominion."

"But now instead of enabling secrets, you're in the business of extracting confessions."

"Yes, and I've been incredibly successful." At the door, she turned and smiled. "Except with you of course. Everything I know about you, I've learned from your eyes, not your words."

Grissom joked in reply, "And what are they saying to you now?" Suddenly fearing an accurate answer, his smile faded.

"I'm not sure exactly." Turning to leave, she added, "But they're definitely not saying stop."

* * *

**AN:**

Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter and to everyone who left an encouraging note. If you're not exactly sure where the story or dysfunctional characters are going, but are sticking around anyway, I really appreciate it! : )

Hope you're having a good weekend,

**Maggs **


	3. Chapter 3

**Bleeding Love – Part 3**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

"You okay, Willows?" Vartann inquired, after watching her snap at Riley and send her packing.

"Yeah." Flicking her hair off her shoulders, Catherine pretended not to know why the observant detective was asking. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it was the way you just chewed up and spit out the new girl for breakfast, then sent her back with David when you clearly could use an extra set of hands at the scene."

"I'll get more twice as much done without her annoying me." Catherine smirked as they strolled to the neighbor's house. "And you should thank me for giving her a hard time, detective. Now she'll be extra needy when you take her home on Saturday."

Trying to appeal to the sensibilities of a forty-something woman jealous of her younger co-worker, the skilled ladies man said, "For the record, I would bed you in heartbeat, Willows, but I wasn't sure you'd say yes if I asked and I hate getting rejected by beautiful women."

When they reached the door, Catherine lowered her sunglasses and grinned at Vartann. "Spouting transparent bullshit like that, it's obvious that you have no choice but to date blondes."

"Ouch." Vartann knocked on Mrs. Vasser's door. "Willows, when Nick starts his predictable bitching at hour seventeen, I'm gonna tell him he's pulling a triple because you got into a catfight with the new girl."

* * *

"Where'd everybody else go?" Nick asked when he returned to the master bedroom and only saw Greg. "This is gonna take forever with just two of us in here."

"CSI Willows went alpha female and ordered Riley to return with David to the morgue." Kneeling on the floor to peer under the bed, Greg said, "Vartann is next door taking a statement from an understandably very traumatized Mrs. Vasser, and Cath went with him to snoop around. Pictures are done, but I just started collecting."

"Okay." Nick pulled on a fresh pair of gloves. "Findin' anything good under the bed?"

"Yeah, check this out. I found a man's wedding ring covered in blood." Greg carefully picked it up with tweezers. "I know the vic was wearing his, because I saw it when I was taking photos of his bound hands. And the husband had his on when I took his prints a few minutes ago." Studying the braided band, he asked, "Could it be the pool guy's?"

"I sincerely doubt it, because Zach the pool boy is a 21 year old twinkie who looks seventeen and…"

"Seriously?" Greg reflexively asked, "What's his JT rating?"

The old inside joke made Nick belly laugh. "I'd say eight, but you'd say nine, because I know how much you like Season 3 Justin's longer hair."

"Yes, yes you do." Greg joined in the laughter. "To this day, Mandy and Wendy still can't figure out your random three months of long hair. I just heard them talking about it last week. For the record, Wendy wishes you would let it grow out again, and Mandy's only preference is that you avoid excessive facial hair. Apparently your porn stache plays a key role in a recurring nightmare she has."

"Ha! The porn stache bet." Nick's laughter filled the room again. "I forgot about that."

"It's good to hear you laughing."

"Yeah, I guess I haven't been laughing much lately." Warrick's death was still taking its toll on a daily basis and his stress level was still well off the charts. "It still feels kinda wrong actually."

"Rick wouldn't want all of us to be moping around."

"Yeah, I know." Nick shrugged. "I'm just havin' a hard time with...." He pursed his lips, but the words got out anyway. "It's hard bein' here when…you know…you probably are thinkin' the same thing, because…" He couldn't bring himself to speak of their close calls with death. "Why him and not us?" Feeling he had said too much, he abruptly changed the subject. "I'm gonna work on these bloody sneaker prints. I can see a New Balance logo on one of 'em. They're definitely not Zach's, because he was wearing black leather concha boots, which are on their way to Hodges, who of course bitched about havin' to pull another double, like he's the only one bein' asked to do anything extra. That reminds me, I need to get Ecklie to sign off on my OT overage. If I don't get that in today, I won't see the money in my next check. I was gonna use that extra cash to pay my share of my parents 50th anniversary present. Shit, I forgot to buy eggs."

To anyone else the erratic change of conversational direction would have been jarring, but since Greg was intimately familiar with the Stokes emotional playbook, he recognized a classic deflection maneuver when he heard it. "I have eggs. How about after we finish up here, we go back to my…"

"Bad idea."

Greg nervously rushed to explain, "I'm not suggesting we…"

"No."

"C'mon, it's obvious that you need someone to talk to and you know I'm…"

"Hey!" Nick barked in frustration, "I said no and I meant it, so drop it."

Shifting his gaze to the soiled carpet, Greg resumed looking for evidence. _Oh, I'm dropping it, Tex, don't you worry._ Silence and the smell of blood dominated the air as he cursed himself for caring. _I was just being a good friend and showing concern, but of course you don't see it that way, but who gives a shit what you think, you're a basketcase. I have enough mental problems of my own, so I don't have time to help you with yours anyway. From this moment on, I'm done. I don't give a rat's ass about you or your ten tons of baggage. I know you and my mother won't believe me, but it's true. That was the __**absolute last time**__ I will __**ever**__ offer you __**anything**__. If we're working a scene together in the desert and you forget your water bottle, you're on your own pal! I'm not offering you as much as a sip of mine! Not even if you're coughing up sand! Not even if you…_

"G…"

"What?! Am I breathing too loud for you to concentrate?"

Keeping his eyes on the bloody shoe print he was measuring, Nick quietly said, "I know I've been a little off since Rick's death, but you don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. Really."

A hefty dose of sarcasm accompanied Greg's reply. "Of course you will, tough guy. If only the rest of us mere mortals could be as resilient and independent as you."

Upon seeing Greg's miffed gaze, Nick felt compelled to apologize. "I was a prick. I'm sorry."

"Are we talking about five minutes ago or eight months ago?" Instantly regretting the remark, he backpedaled, "This is our exhaustion talking."

"Yeah."

"Since there's already plenty of blood on the carpet, let's not rip open old wounds, okay?"

"My thoughts exactly." Nick filled with relief. "I'm runnin' real low on friends, and can't afford to lose another one, so if it's okay with you, I'd like to rewind five minutes and give you a different reply."

"Go for it."

After a calming breath in and out, Nick gave his amended response, "Thanks, G, I really appreciate the offer, but I'm gonna have to say no."

"That's much better." Greg reinforced his statement with a smile. "And don't worry, if you ever do need to spend time with a friend, I'll always open my door for you." He decided to toss in a joke for good measure, "Just my front door." When he heard Nick chuckle, his smile expanded. "Hey, I need to grab some coffee and find a restroom. Want me bring you something?"

"Yeah, a bottle of water would be great, thanks."

When he reached the bedroom door, Greg asked, "Do you still need my iPod?"

"Not really, no." Nick reached into the pocket of his vest for it. "I can text Archie and ask him to download everything off the vic's shuffle for me." He held out the player. "Here."

Since he was across the room, Greg opted to wait. "I'll grab it when I get back."

As soon as he was alone, Nick pulled up the 'Our Songs' playlist, intending to do what Greg should have done eight months ago - delete it. But his fingers ended up selecting Coldplay's Clocks instead. Against his better judgment, he planted the iPod buds in his ears. _Lights go out and I can't be saved… _

* * *

Rolling onto his side, Gil clicked off the bedside lamp and resumed staring at the ceiling. Alone in the dark listening to the tick of Heather's antique wall clock, sleep seemed unfathomable, and he wondered how a man who had slept alone for years, could suddenly forget how.

* * *

Lost in a flood of bittersweet memories, Nick was frozen in front of the sneaker print he was supposed to be processing. _Confusion never stops, closing walls, and ticking clocks. Come back and take you home, I could not stop that you now know. Come out upon my seas. Curse missed opportunities. Am I part of the cure or part of the disease? _

* * *

Closing his eyes, Gil imagined Sara on the research boat. She was on its deck, a cool ocean breeze ruffling her hair. She was smiling, just like she had been in the video. He tried to imagine being with her, and when he was finally on the deck facing the love of his life, he was shocked to see her smile fade. She didn't expect to see him. No, she didn't want to see him. While he had been landlocked in Vegas, she had been racing across open water and the distance between them now represented relief instead of heartache.

* * *

Don't Panic by Coldplay was a song Greg first played for Nick about six years ago, but the memory remained clear as day…

"_Stokes, the problem with that country crap you listen to is that everything is spelled out." While Nick was trapped for the next five minutes waiting for DNA results, Greg decided he would use the time to try and expand the cowboy's musical tastes yet again. _

"_Country crap?" The Texan took great offense. "Country music has millions of fans."_

"_Yeah, well, so does George Bush, but that doesn't mean he's worth listening to." As his co-worker laughed, Greg resumed his lecture. "When a dog dies in a hillbilly song, the lyrics always go something like this…" He mocked his friend's twang and crooned, "My coonhound got run over by an eighteen wheeeeeeler on highway four-sixty-fourrrrrr, so I'm buyin' a big case of Budddddweiiiiiiser and drinkin' until I diiiiiie. Then holdin' Skippy's leash I'll put my pedal to the medal, and crash my black Ford pickup..."_

"_Time out!" Nick made a T with his hands. "No respectable hillybilly would name his coonhound __**Skippy**__. The dog would be called Skeeter or Red." _

"_Calling a red dog, Red illustrates my point even better!" Flipping on his CD player, Greg said, "Where is the joy in music if there's nothing left up to interpretation." He wiggled his eyebrows. "You expanded my horizons last month, so I'm returning the favor."_

_Nick lowered his voice to a chiding whisper, "Hey, we agreed what drunkenly happened in Pittsburgh, was gonna stay there." For the hundredth time, he cursed Grissom for asking him to take Greg along to the Forensics conference to present the DNA portion of the lab's highlighted casefiles. Then he cursed himself for believing that Greg would be cool with everything meaning nothing upon their return to Vegas. _

_Ignoring the comment, Greg pressed play and let the notes of Coldplay's __Don't Panic__ flood the room. _

_Seconds into the song's instrumental opening, Nick hit the pause button on the player. "You may like music left up to interpretation, but I like it when things are spelled out crystal clear. Kinda like this - Pittsburgh was a lot of fun, but I don't have the urge to go back there, because I prefer to continually explore new places." _

_The sound of the printer churning out a DNA report snapped Greg back to reality. "Sounds like we have a verdict." He glanced at the report and then handed it over. "You'll be happy to know that the sample you provided __**clearly**__ matches the suspect's DNA. The guy's guilty." _

"_Yeah." Nick glanced up from the report. "Thanks." On the way to the door, he released the CD player's pause button. "And sorry for bein' such a prick."_

Turning up the volume on the iPod, Nick smiled, recalling how much Greg loved the irony of Don't Panic being the song that propelled them from friends to partners two years later, and eventually went on to become their anthem.

* * *

Holding two coffees, Greg ducked under the crime tape and nodded at Officer Mendez. "Who's that talking to the vic's husband?" The well-dressed couple were consoling Mr. Clarkson on the front lawn.

"His brother and sister-in-law," the cop replied while enviously eyeing the Starbucks cups in the CSIs hands. "I radioed Vartann, he said to keep them around until he's done next door. The husband definitely needs the company after just making a call to the school principal to say what happened and tell him that his sister-in-law would be picking up the children instead of his wife. The kids are only nine and seven, imagine how devastated they're gonna be."

"Honestly, I can't think beyond the DBs anymore." Continuing up the front walk, Greg sighed, "It makes me too depressed."

"That's exactly how Grissom ended up being a robot, Sanders," Mendez half-joked as he watched the CSI trudge toward the front door. "Be careful or you'll end up as lonely and weird as him."

"Too late," Greg muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me, officer!"

When Greg turned, he saw the three family members approaching him. "Actually, I'm with the Crime Lab, if you need to talk to an…"

"I'm Megan Clarkson, the children's aunt and Michael's sister-in-law. They'll be staying with my husband Steve and our kids, so they'll need some clothes and their..."

"How long before we can go inside?" Steve Clarkson asked, while wrapping his arm around his brother shoulders and giving him a supportive squeeze. "Besides the kids' stuff, there are few sentimental things Michael really wants to have with him."

"I'm afraid it's going to be quite a while before we can release the scene," Greg answered, hating to be the bearer of more bad news. "When the detective returns, give him a list of critical items, and as long as they're not evidence and we're able to clear them, we should be able to bag them up and release them to you."

Wiping a fresh crop of tears, Megan choked out, "I'm talking about teddy bears, not murder weapons."

As he watched the sister-in-law run her left hand across her damp face, Greg noticed her gold braided wedding band glinting in the sunlight. It was an exact match to the bloody ring he had just bagged as evidence. Slowly he turned to confirm what his gut was already telling him. "Do you normally wear a wedding band, Steve?"

Too distraught to wonder why the man was asking, the wife answered, "Yes, but he lost it when he went for his morning jog. They were custom made and I was devastated, but then this happened and I can't believe I thought the world was ending over a ring and now my nieces have no mother and I've lost the woman I think of as a sister. Life was perfect when I woke up this morning," she sobbed, "I can't believe this is happening."

"C'mon, honey," Steve took his wife by the hand. "Let's go around the corner to the strip mall and get something cold to drink."

Blocking the suspect's exit, Greg coolly asked, "Were you by any chance wearing New Balance running shoes when you lost your ring this morning, Mr. Clarkson?"

As the suspect released his wife's hand and bolted into the house, Greg yelled, "Mendez! I need backup!" Then racing down the hall after the killer, he screamed, "Nick! Suspect coming your way! Block him!"

But all Nick heard right before he was blindsided and tackled were Coldplay lyrics. And as his gun was being yanked from his holster the words 'we live in a beautiful world' were ironically filling his ears.

"Move and I shoot! Put your hands behind your head!"

Stunned and confused, Nick froze with his back to his attacker.

Primal instinct taking over, Steve Clarkson pointed the pistol at the word Forensics on his hostage's jacket. "Hands up **now**!" Seeing another man enter the room, he screamed, "Get out and shut the door!"

When he saw Nick kneeling with his hands locked behind his head, Greg panicked and lurched forward.

"Get out and shut the fucking door!" Clarkson roared as he shifted the gun to advancing investigator. "I already sliced up the only woman I ever loved, so putting a bullet in a stranger's head will be the easy part of my day!"

"Greg!" Nick's senses returning, he ordered, "Think about it, he only needs **one** hostage." He hoped the message was clear – if both of them stayed in the room, the odds of one them dying quickly were high, and if the killer had any common sense, he'd choose to shoot the person furthest away and retain the hostage he had under control. "Greg! Get out!"

Without a gun or a plan, Greg saw no alternative, but to leave and get help. "Don't panic," he said in a shaky voice as he backed out of the room. It wasn't an instruction, but a reference to the song they shared. The song they always played and contemplated when it felt like the world was about to end.

* * *

The jarring sound of his cell phone ringing sent Grissom bolting up in bed. In the darkness, he fumbled to answer it. "Grissom…"

"Nick's been taken hostage by the prime suspect in a double homicide."

Only months after Warrick's death and Sara's departure, the last thing Grissom wanted to imagine was losing another family member. "Where is he?" he asked as the memory of watching Warrick die in his arms terrorized him. "I'm on my way."

* * *

ANs:

Thanks so much for continuing to read and for your comments! :D

Maggs


	4. Chapter 4

****

Bleeding Love – Part 4

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

Done with talking, Steve screamed into the CSI's radio, "Don't tell me I have a wife and kids, I know I have a wife and kids! I also know they hate me because we don't have a fancy house and can't afford expensive trips to Disneyland and Maui! Now this is it, I'm done talking! I've turned off our cell phones, ripped the phone out of the wall, and if any of you contact me again, I'll do something drastic!" To make sure he didn't get another call, he threw the radio at the wall, shattering it. "There!"

* * *

"Wait!" Greg screamed into his radio, desperately trying to get Nick's captor to stay on the line. Turning to Vartann and Mendez he snapped, "Now we have no visual or audio."

Vartann chose to focus on facts, not emotions. "Four patrol cars are within minutes of here, and Grissom is on his way too. I've got one uniform on each side of the house, one on the front door, and Catherine is watching the French doors of the master bedroom." Checking his watch, he added, "Tactical will be here in thirty at the earliest. They're bringing sharpshooters and a negotiator to..."

"Thirty minutes?"

"It's the best they can do. The entire unit is deployed at a high school lockdown in North Vegas. A student with a homemade bomb is holding classmates and his teacher hostage. They're going to have to redeploy some guys from there, but we're on the opposite side of the city at the edge of the urban sprawl. And let's not hold our breath, because the Sheriff knows where his bread is buttered, so he's not going to jeopardize a happy ending at that school."

Fearing he'd lose his mind waiting, Greg exclaimed, "I can't just stand here without audio or visual contact."

"What's the alternative, Sanders? Run in there and get one or both of you killed? I heard the guy loud and clear, he's a loser who hates his crappy life and bitchy wife. We can't reason with him when he's in an agitated state, he has to be calmed down before we can get anywhere. Now we could bust down the door, but it's never a good idea to startle a nutcase when his finger is on the trigger of a loaded gun pointed at the back of a guy's head."

"I just don't see why we can't at least…"

"No." Vartann planted his hands on his hips. "I'm still in charge of the scene and I say we're following procedure and staying put, because it minimizes the number of personnel and civilians in danger." Knowing there was more at stake personally for Greg, the detective pulled him aside. "Look, I know this is difficult for you after losing Warrick this year, but the best thing you can do for Nick is to stay calm and not do anything to jeopardize his safety. He's been in these kind of situations before and can handle the pressure." He gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Come on, stay positive. Stokes knows that he has to calm the guy down and win his trust. Even if we can't hear…"

"Maybe we can." Greg rushed toward the Denali with Vartann on his heels. "Tech companies are always giving us new equipment to test in the field. They like geeks to troubleshoot stuff before giving it to cops. The latest batch had surveillance stuff in it. Wendy and I tested it out a few weeks ago, when we saw Hodges was singing in the Trace Lab. There's a directional microphone that captures the audio, and everything is transmitted remotely to a digital recording device, from there you can listen to the output live, store it, and download it." He chuckled, "If you ever need to torture a suspect during questioning, you can borrow my copy of Hodges yodeling ABBA songs."

Vartann wished he had thought to activate Greg's geek mode ten minutes ago, because high-tech talk apparently occupied his mind enough to keep him from panicking.

Popping open the hatch, Greg searched for a black case. "There." Grabbing it, he excitedly pitched his idea, "We spied on Hodges by inserting the microphone through a vent. We can do the same thing inside the house. I can feed it into the master bedroom vent from a vent in the next room."

"If Clarkson sees…"

"It totally Big Brother microscopic."

"But if hears you…"

"He won't!"

"I think it's too risky."

Feeling Vartann was ultimately responsible for the entire situation, Greg retorted, "Risky? Like giving Mendez the okay to let a guy under the tape before he's cleared?"

"Don't worry, I'm not going to pretend this isn't my FUBAR, Sanders." His guilty conscious influencing his judgment, Vartann said, "Before you go inside, make sure you take everything out of your pockets and take off anything that can make noise."

"Stealth mode. Got it. I'll be in and out in two minutes." Anxious to get audio proof that Nick was alive, Greg tossed his vest and kicked off his sneakers.

* * *

Sticking with what had worked for him in similar situations, Nick calmly attempted to talk the gunman into surrendering. "It doesn't have to go down like this, man. Let me help you out of this mess. I'm sure there were extenuating circumstances that led you to do what you did. Everybody makes mistakes. You don't look like a vicious killer to me, you look like...."

"A teddy bear with a stick body. That's how my **loving wife** describes me to her friends."

Because of the guy's thick, curly hair, sweet round face, big brown eyes, and tall, lean marathon runner's physique, Nick couldn't dispute the description.

In an agitated rant, Steve explained, "She says she describes me that way because she thinks it's **cute**, but I know she says it to **humiliate** me!" He switched the pistol to his left hand for a moment, so he could wipe the sweat off his right. "Then she tells them I'm thin because I'm 'one of those _**vegans**_'. I **hate **how she says vegan like it's a dirty word. It's kind of like how some people get that funny sound in the voice right before they say 'black' or 'gay' like it's code for 'I don't like them because they're inferior, but I'm not crazy enough to say it out loud because one of them might hear about it and kick my ass'.

"Steve…"

"You know because the vegans, blacks, and gays have track records for asking for **crazy things** like compassion, equal rights**, **and tolerance, and if they don't get their way they start marching and causing problems!" Pacing the floor, he ranted, "Because peaceful demonstrations are **so** much worse than shooting **defenseless** wolves from helicopters and **clubbing** innocent baby seals in the head!"

"Steve…"

"That **bitch** swiped my early voting ballot because she knew I was going to vote for Obama! She filled it out and mailed it in! I'm **on record** voting for a pro-life moose hunting, wolf shooter!"

Trying to regain control, Nick shouted over the rant. "Hey, Steve! That's what I'm talkin' about, **abuse **is an extenuating circumstance. The DA is a reasonable person, I'm sure you'll be able to cut a fair deal."

"Deals only go to celebrities, rich people, and criminals who have something to offer. I'm a broke loser who killed two people and took a cop for a hostage." The shocking confession startled the normally mild-mannered veterinary technician. "I still can't believe it really happened." At the time, it had seemed like just another domination scenario.

"Why did you kill 'em?"

"Because mean people suck!"

"I agree. And mean people can make even the nicest, most compassionate people very upset…even make 'em do things they wouldn't normally do." Nick saw an opportunity for a different approach. "If you were under extreme duress at the time of the murders, your lawyer could try for an insanity defense and…"

"Of course I'm insane! What** sane** person wakes up one morning, watches Animal Planet, goes for a run, and then butchers two people?!"

"Look…"

"Hey!" When the CSI attempted to turn around, Steve decided it was no longer safe to keep him unrestrained. "Slide to that corner and sit with your back to the bed. I'm going to handcuff you to the frame so you can't make a run for it."

Deciding to try 'the friendly hostage' approach, Nick warmly replied, "Sorry, I'm not a cop, so I don't have handcuffs for you to use."

"I didn't say I need cuffs, I said **move**!"

After reluctantly moving to the designated spot, Nick watched the lunatic shove the dresser away from the wall and remove what appeared to be a back panel.

"Donna kept everything back here, so Michael wouldn't find it."

As the guy stepped closer to cuff him, Nick debated whether he should take a chance and try to disarm him.

"Don't even think of trying anything, because I'm feeling **really, really** tense right now."

Since being restrained was better than being dead, Nick complacently held out his right hand and let the nutjob cuff him to a bed rail.

Grabbing a second pair of cuffs, Steve finished securing the CSI.

* * *

"It's working," Vartann gave a thumbs up to Greg, who was just returning from the covert operation. "Nick's cuffed to the bed, but he sounds fine and he's got the guy talking. Listen. It's coming through crystal clear."

_Comfy?_

_Yeah, actually, thanks. The carpet's plush, I'm restin' against a cushy mattress, you didn't stretch my arms out too far or tighten the cuffs too much. This is a much better arrangement than when I woke up and discovered a psychopath with a grudge had buried me alive in a coffin with a limited supply of oxygen and a ton of fire ants._

_Wait a minute. I remember that story about a CSI getting kidnapped and buried alive. That's why the name Stokes rang a bell. Wow. What the hell possessed you to keep your CSI job after __**that **__nightmare?_

_We have a really good dental plan. _

Greg beamed with pride. "He sounds great, totally calm."

"I told you he would have everything under control. He's a good talker."

"Vartann!" Grissom shouted as he rushed from his car. "What's the status?"

"He's okay." Greg pointed to the recorder. "We don't have a visual, but I used this field test equipment to establish audio."

* * *

Remembering Steve's comment that 'mean people suck', Nick decided to try a little empathy. "All joking aside, I kept my job because I like hangin' out with dead people."

"And some folks think bondage is a disturbing fetish."

"Not that kind of hanging out. What I mean is, living people sometimes get on my nerves." Nick shrugged. "You know…they get in my space when I want to be left alone, and they try to tell me what to do, when I prefer be in control 24/7. When I'm exhausted, or depressed, or have a ton of stuff runnin' through my head, I don't have to worry about a corpse nagging me to talk about my feelings. They stay put when I need 'em to, and when I start craving a little space, a corpse can't follow me out of the room. And unlike living people…I know a corpse will still be there when I return from a break."

* * *

"Do you think he just said that, because he thinks it's what the guy needs to hear?" Feeling vulnerable, Greg glanced over at Grissom for a second opinion. "Or do you think he really meant it? Have you ever heard him say something like that before?"

"No." On edge from the crisis, Grissom spoke with unusual candor. "Honestly, I think he's describing me."

"I don't think so." Greg was certain that Nick had just verbalized his reasons for not wanting to live with him.

* * *

After pondering the CSI's odd statements, Steve remarked, "That's why I work with animals. Take dogs for example, they love you unconditionally and accept you for who you are, even your flaws. Sure they give you a reminder bark if you're late feeding them, but they'd never scream or berate you for it."

"I have a dog," Nick announced, trying to forge as many connections with his captor as possible. "A coonhound."

"What's his name?"

"Skippy."

* * *

Feeling further out of touch with his family, Grissom glanced over Greg. "When did Nick get a dog?"

"He didn't." Greg's thoughts turned to hilarious memories of composing 'An Ode to Skippy the Coonhound' to mock his partner's love of country music. What had started as a spontaneous joke one day years ago, eventually ended up becoming a full length composition with vocals by 'Greg Billy Bob Bobby Ray Sanders' and an authentic jug band playing backup. A CD, complete with a customized cover and label, was his Christmas gift to Nick last year…along with twelve romance coupons to be cashed in for 'anything, anytime, anywhere except at work or in a Denali (because Nicholas Stokes is a model employee and a very responsible guy yadda, yadda, yadda)'.

_I hope you didn't get your dog from a puppy mill. _

_No, a friend of mine found him hurt on the side of Highway 464 and brought him home._

Even the dire circumstances of the situation couldn't stop Greg from expressing his joy with a toothy grin.

* * *

"My wife** hates** animals," Steve ranted, "she thinks dogs are dirty because they lick their parts and sniff each other's butts. Like humans wouldn't lick their own parts if they could, and isn't it totally hypocritical to be against ass sniffing, while she's demanding I kiss **her ass** 24/7!" Mentally and physically exhausted, Steve took a seat across from his hostage. "She won't even allow goldfish in the house. What kind of monster has a problem with goldfish?" His tone grew icy as he heard his wife's voice in his head. "The house she paid for with her parents' money, like she doesn't remind me of that ten times a day. If it's not that, she's bitching about how we could take fancy vacations and have nice things if I had graduated at the top of my class at med school like my brother, instead of flunking out of Veterinary school and becoming a Tech."

"Why'd you marry each other?"

"Stupidity." Thinking of the night that sealed his fate in hell, Steve droned, "I stupidly didn't use a condom and she got pregnant when we were eighteen. I had only known her for a month, and it was the first time either of us had sex. By the time I figured out she was a carnivorous, pet-hating, materialistic bitch, I was stuck, and I've been stuck in a miserable marriage ever since." Glancing over at the CSI, he asked, "Are you married?"

* * *

_No. _

_Divorced?_

_No. _

_Engaged?_

_Nope. I had a friend who got hitched and I told him if he was still happily married in five years, I'd consider taking the plunge with someone myself, but his marriage, like most in this town, crashed and burned shortly after take off. _

_Ever live with anyone? _

_Yeah, on and off with the same person for a while, but not anymore. _

Greg's smile faded when the memory of their last breakup popped into his mind.

_What happened? _

_It's pretty personal, so I'd rather not..._

_Hey! I just told you I butchered two people, I don't think it gets more personal than that. _

_I suppose not. _

_Come on, it's just the two of us bonding here…man to man. I don't really have any friends that are human, and I could really use a buddy today. And let's face it, your secret is safe with me, because what are the odds of me getting out of here alive, even if I try to use you as my hostage? _

For Greg, Grissom, and Vartann, the statement was a sobering reminder of the danger at hand.

* * *

Remembering how Nigel went off over him not being his best friend, Nick wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. "Sorry, I was just bein' shy. I have a real hard time talkin' about my personal life." He knew the best way to increase his odds of survival would be to make the gunman unable to shoot his new best friend. "Honestly, I've been real lonely lately and could really use a good conversation, so yeah, I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

* * *

Worried that extremely personal information might be overheard, Greg said, "Out of respect for Nick's privacy, I don't think all of us should be listening."

"You're right." Grissom nodded, understanding the basis for the concern. "As his supervisor, it should be my responsibility."

"Yeah, but I'm his best friend," Greg countered.

"I've heard enough." Grabbing his radio, Vartann headed toward the street feeling confident that Nick had the situation under control and would be pulling off another heroic and happy ending. "I'll come back when I have an update from Tactical."

Once they were alone, Grissom said, "What if you hear something upsetting?"

"When you care about someone who isn't telling you how they really feel, it's the not knowing that's gut wrenching. It's always better to know than to be stuck guessing."

Grissom imagined that Sara had felt the same way right before she left.

* * *

"Okay, Nick." Steve asked his most burning question first. "How many ant bites did you have when they pulled you out of the coffin?"

"Over a thousand." The mere mention of the fact made Nick's skin crawl. "But the bite itself isn't the worse part. The ant latches on and bites you once, but then it keeps poking you with it's stinger until its venom sac is empty. So each bite can represent a dozen stings and the more venom it gets in you, the bigger the blister."

"Just hearing about it give me the heebies."

"Hey, I'm all for changing the subject," Nick chuckled, trying to convince his captor that he was enjoying their new friendship.

"What was the most difficult crime scene you were ever at?"

"Most difficult?" Nick decided to answer Steve's questions truthfully instead of making up stories, because as his grandfather had told him many times – 'the best way **not **to get caught being dishonest, is to always tell the truth'. He also knew from years on the job, that people telling fictional stories tended to get caught through quirky body language and slips in consistency. "The most difficult scene was earlier this year, it was the scene of my buddy's death. It's really hard when someone you care about is the victim. I'm still struggling with it." Desperate to change to less morbid subjects, Nick forced a grin and said, "I hope you're gonna ask some easy, fun ones too."

Eager to recapture some of his lost youth, Steve excitedly asked, "How old were you when you had your first beer?"

* * *

Trying to keep his spirits up, Greg joked, "Cover your ears, Griss. He wasn't legal."

_Sixteen. I got drunk at my brother's kegger._

_I tried that once, but my brother caught me and kicked my ass. _

_My brother didn't find out until later when I puked, but when he did, he kicked my ass. _

_How old were you when you lost your virginity?_

_Eighteen. Senior year of high school._

_Back seat or bedroom?_

"Both," Greg mindlessly answered out loud, knowing Nick deflowered his first girl in the back of his mother's station wagon, and that he got deflowered by one of his brother's closest friends when visiting one weekend. To this day his brother never knew it happened or that he was good friends with closeted gay man. "What?" Greg remarked in response to Grissom's stare. "Like you don't know Sara's virginity story? It's a relationship right of passage to tell each other about your first times. It's one of the classic intimacy-building conversations right up there with 'did you have any pets as a kid' and 'what's the one superhero power you would choose to have and why?"

Grissom never thought to ask Sara any of those questions, and would have died of embarrassment if she had asked him to share his horrific first time experience.

"You don't know Sara's story, do you?" Greg didn't have the heart to tell him that he did.

_I never dated anyone but my wife, and the biggest date we went on before she got pregnant was a movie and dinner at TGI Fridays. What was the best date of your life? _

_The best, huh. _

_Yeah, like if you could only choose __**one date**__ to relive before you die, which one would it be? _

_Pittsburgh, December 7__th__ thru the 12__th__, 2002. We went there for the North American Forensics Conference at the Omni William Penn Hotel, but ended up goin' to the stars. _

Since Nick had on more than one occasion referred to that trip as the 'worst mistake of his life', it wasn't the answer Greg was expecting. "Whoa."

"My thoughts exactly," snipped Grissom. "The **department **paid for the best date of Nick's life?"

"Mine too." Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, Greg confidently informed his boss, "But trust me, Griss, it was worth every penny."

"I didn't even know you were together back then. If I did, I never would have sent you along."

"We weren't together when we left Vegas and we weren't together when we got back, but while we were there..."

_What made the date so special, Nick?_

Panicking, Greg looked at Grissom. "If he starts telling the truth, you can't listen in!"

"I disagree. I think I deserve to know exactly what I funded."

* * *

**ANs: **

Thanks so much for reading and for the comments on the last chapter! I'm glad you're enjoying the story : )

FYI - The rating will change to M starting with the next chapter.

Maggs


	5. Chapter 5

**Bleeding Love – Part 5**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

**ANs :** Because the story is being told in flashback and out of order, the characters' behavior may appear off until you know what happened before or after a particular scene. It's intentional and will all come together as the story, past and present, unfold.

**Omni William Penn Hotel - Pittsburgh**

**December 9, 2002**

After staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror for what seemed like an eternity, Nick decided to ignore common sense, gut instinct, LVPD Department Policy, and his grandfather's sage advice 'never shit where you eat'. Tonight instead of being his usual responsible self, he would throw caution to the wind and follow the irrational desire of an aching body part – his lonely heart. "I'm sure I'll live to regret this too," he sighed, while stuffing condoms in the front pocket of his jeans.

His cynicism wasn't unfounded. The last time someone had challenged him to stop being analytical and just fall into bed, he ended up a murder suspect. But since the only things Kristy and Greg had in common were puppy dog eyes and wanting some time with a guy who would treat them right, he was reasonably sure no one would end up dead this time. "You're a glutton for punishment, Stokes." Ready to continue what they had spontaneously started at Sparx, he said goodbye to his reflection and opened the door. "Miss me?" Instead of crossing the room, he opted to lean against the wall and entice his wannabe lover from afar.

Seeing the leading man of his fantasies sharing the same 300 square feet of reality, sent Greg into a lusty tailspin. "I…" With blood racing from his brain to a remote part of his anatomy, a coherent answer wasn't possible. "Uh…"

Sticking to the role they had decided he'd play for the night, Nick dramatically suckled the last drop of beer out of his longneck bottle, wiped his wet lips with the back of his hand, and then tossed the empty aside like a redneck bad boy. "Sorry to keep you waitin' so long."

A giddy laugh escaping his lips, Greg shrugged. "Hey, what's another fifteen minutes when you've been waiting over 24 years?"

"You gonna play some music?" For an encore performance, Nick removed his black t-shirt with porn star finesse.

"I have it cued up." Using his lap top as a CD player, Greg walked over to the desk and clicked on the mix. "I hope this works for you." Because the last thing he wanted to lose his ass cherry to were Nick's Deliverance-esque hillbilly songs.

"Everything's workin' fine except that shirt you're wearing." Anticipating the pleasure to come, Nick subconsciously licked his lips. "Take it off."

"Uh…sure." After tossing his tee, his eyes locked on the perfect chest and six-pack approaching.

_Ten…kiss me on the lips._

The first line of the song catching Nick's ear, he pressed pause and folded his arms across his bare chest. "What's with the step-by-step instructions? Are all the songs gonna be tellin' me what to do?"

"No." Nervous tension making him laugh, Greg assured the control freak, "No, just the first song sounds like this." Straight to Number One – Dreamcatcher's Mix had the top spot in the love line up, because it was a guaranteed jumpstart to his libido. "I play this disc when I'm in a transcendental mood and need to drift away from reality for a while. It gets my head back in the right place."

"So you jerk off to it."

"That's been known to happen," the hard up lab rat candidly admitted. "Yeah."

"I hope your hand doesn't get jealous when I pinch hit. It might try to strangle me." Grinning, Nick clicked play on the laptop.

_Nine…run your fingers through my hair._

"Run my fingers through that gel coated bird's nest of yours?" Pretending his fingers couldn't penetrate the spikey mane, Nick curiously said, "It already looks like we've tumbled twice, so what's your hair gonna look like after we really do?"

"Relaxed, hopefully," Greg remarked with a glint in his eye.

_Eight...touch me._

"Gladly." After turning Greg to face the desk, Nick wrapped his left arm around his waist and slid his right hand until it found happiness exploring a mound of faded denim.

The erotic assault to his body quickly sent him into sensory overload. The fact that he could see everything reflected in the large wall mirror directly in front of him, didn't help the situation. "Gahhhh…" Squirming from the sight and feel of Nick's hand diving under the waistband of his jeans, he panicked that he'd finish while still wearing pants.

_Slowly…_

"Uh…" The stimulation from seeing and feeling everything becoming too much, Greg closed his eyes and dropped his head back against Nick's shoulder. "I need a minute."

"But I just got here." In a huskier voice, he added, "And I really like what I found."

"Seriously, I…"

"Just think about something else until the urge passes."

"I already tried that."

"See, this is why you don't do sprints to train for a marathon."

_Slowly…_

"Okay, okay." Sliding both hands up to his coworker's shoulders, Nick whispered, "You know there's still a tiny voice in my head sayin' we shouldn't be doing this."

Greg panted, "Twenty bucks says that tiny voice in your head is overruled by the large part of you frotting me."

"Thanks for the compliment."

_Seven...hold it! Let's go straight…to number one. _

Suddenly feeling like he'd die if he held onto his overripe cherry a second longer, the desperate half-virgin hastily shoved his Levis and gray boxer briefs to his ankles, and bent over the desk. "I'm ready."

Nick reached over and stopped the music. "Do you have a plane to catch that I don't know about?"

"No."

"Is it gettin' close to your curfew or somethin'?"

When he opened his eyes and saw his friend's reflection shaking its head, Greg asked, "What's going on?"

"I'm givin' you the yellow flag, Speed Racer…and callin' off the role play. Game over."

The news was highly disconcerting. "What?" He whipped around, forgetting his pants were at his ankles and almost falling. "Why?" he asked upon regaining his balance.

"Because if I just wanted to pound a guy's ass, I woulda used the bathroom at the club, and if that's really all you want, then you should go back there and find Leatherman." Stuffing his hands on hips, the disappointed romancer, griped, "You broke the vibe."

"Sorry for rushing." Feeling underdressed and overly stupid, Greg tried to joke his way out of the awkwardness. "It wasn't you. I was afraid to take my ADHD meds when I knew I'd be boozing, so I'm a little hyper. How about I pull up my pants, go for a walk, and we can just forget this monumentally embarrassing night ever happened."

"You can't put the genie back in the bottle once it's freed."

Thoroughly confused, Greg huffed, "But you just gave me the yellow flag and accused me of vibe breaking."

"We're starting over with a new vibe…a real one." Pressing their bodies together, Nick softened his tone and playfully tapped his nose to Greg's. "As an experienced CSI, I should've intuited that a guy who likes songs with step-by-step instructions needs a higher level of guidance."

Relieved that the awkwardness was ebbing, Greg excitedly overshared, "If I mess up the first time around, don't worry, I'm a very quick learner. When I was five, I learned the top 100 chess moves in six hours. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"I want you to kiss me back." After reigniting the fizzled mood with a fiery smootch, Nick rasped, "The real vibe is much better than the fake one. Mmm…how about you step out of this pile of prematurely shed clothing, fetch us a couple of beers from the ice bucket, and move to the bed."

Too thrilled to speak, Greg rushed to follow orders.

"Good boy," Nick teased, enjoying the playfulness.

But when Greg reached the bed, he froze under the pressure of another decision – should he climb on top of the comforter or under the bedding?

Immediately sensing internal struggle, the expert instructed, "Pull the comforter and blanket all the way off. That way you have somethin' warm and dry for afterwards, but more importantly…"

"But there are two beds, so couldn't we just move…sorry."

The lead CSI continued his field lecture, "More importantly, we don't want to mess up that stuff, because then housekeeping is involved in on our…" He caught himself just as he was about to uncharacteristically use the words 'love life'.

Greg fished for an answer, "Our what?"

"Business. In the morning, we ball up the sheets, spill some coffee on 'em and then housekeeping tosses the pile into the laundry cart none the wiser."

"Wow. Exactly how many times have you romped in a hotel?" Realizing the question was a vibe killer, Greg shut up and reached for the bedding. Immediately he was faced with more gut wrenching decisions – should he recline on his back, side, or stomach, and should he go for a natural pose or attempt something seductive?

The bumbling antics of his buddy making him even more attractive, Nick sweetly suggested, "Just chill out on your back like you're watchin' TV in bed."

"I don't have a TV in my bedroom."

"Then just sit." Once the object of his affection was perched on the edge of the mattress, Nick pointed at him. "Stay right there." Grinning uncontrollably, he turned to unpause the music. "Good boy. Now that you've mastered 'sit', 'stay', and 'fetch', we can work on 'roll over' and 'come'."

Feeling confident enough to banter, Greg locked his eyes on his trainer's and deadpanned, "Sounds good to me, as long as I get a treat in the end."

"If I forget, you can always beg for it."

_Six…lips._

"Wait, I thought ten was lips?" Nick said, trying to remember.

"No, ten was kiss."

Nick asked a purposely leading question, "So kiss and lips mean two different things?"

"Yeah." After sitting eye level with Nick's waist for a full minute, the inexperienced lover finally pieced together the clues and glanced up at his patient partner. "Want me to show you the difference? I'm asking, just in case it's not what you want…because of before when I jumped ahead and you got ticked."

Hearing intense vulnerability and seeing it in the puppy dog eyes staring up at him, Nick unexpectedly felt like he did upon hearing Kristy's tearful confession that she just wanted to feel something real after years of being numb. It was exactly how he had felt that night, and every night since comin' to Vegas…since leavin' college and the memories of his first love behind him…since that fateful day when everything went wrong.

Afraid he had made another faux-pas, Greg squeaked, "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect." Brushing his thumb over the flushed face before him, Nick momentarily dropped his guard and shared exactly what he was thinking, "I just want you to know that I'm havin' the best time I've had in a long time." He chuckled, "I wanted to say that before you blew me, so there's no confusion. So it's clear…I've enjoyed everything leadin' up to this moment - the cab ride from hell, all the stuff we talked about on the plane, you makin' me laugh whenever I got bored at the conference. Seriously, even all the little annoying stuff you do, like not puttin' the caps back on the hotel shampoo and conditioner, isn't bothering me like it normally would."

"Why put the caps back on hotel shampoo and conditioner when housekeeping is just going to throw…"

"First you interrupt my role play seduction and now you're breaking the flow of my…"

"Your what?"

"Uhh..." Nick flustered, "Anyway, my point is…I'm havin' a great time with you. So, please remember that if I say somethin' different when I'm sober, or when we get back to Vegas, or if I turn into an insufferable prick out of the blue…it won't be your fault."

"Okay," Greg answered, though he was thoroughly confused.

Feeling vulnerable, Nick abruptly switched from confessing his true feelings to joking around again. "Bein' drunk and havin' fun with ya is really the only explanation for me agreein' to make what I'm sure is a** huge** mistake that will ultimately bite me in the ass…and not in a good way."

"There's a bad way?"

"We'll always have Pittsburgh, Greggo! The Tangerine Dream inspired scene on the plane, you askin' me to pop your cherry when Leatherman scared the hell out of you, and that **incredible** kiss that took us by surprise at the club" After pausing to listen to the new song that was playing, he continued, "The spectacular hummer you gave me while really fucked up vampire music was playin' in the background. What is this you're playin'?"

"It's called Flowers Become Screens."

"And that explains nothing." Grabbing the beer Greg had fetched and placed on the nightstand, he laughed, "But the moaning is kinda inspiring."

Snatching the remaining beer bottle, Greg toasted, "To tonight, which we promise to fondly look back on one day."

After chugging half his beer, Nick proposed a toast of his own, "To tonight…which will be remembered for more than just the two rounds of hot sex we had before goin' for number three in the shower."

"Three?" Greg burst into laughter, "You do remember I have to sit in a conference room with you and 400 geeks for **eight hours** tomorrow, right? And for the next four days."

"No pressure, Greggo. Seriously. It's totally cool if you're not up for...," Nick paused for dramatic effect, "…goin' to the conference tomorrow."

"It is tomorrow."

"That settles it then, we're sleepin' in." After unzipping his jeans and shoving them to the floor, Nick raked his fingers through Greg's stiffly gelled hair and moaned along with the music. "Flowers Become Screens, huh?"

"Admit it, you like it."

"You know what else I really like?" He moaned with relief when Greg intuitively stepped up to the plate. "Hmm…somethin' tells me you've done this once or twice…or a lot." Closing his eyes, he got lost in the pleasure and the swirl of the music. "Mmm." Suddenly he saw the next four days in a whole new light. "I say we blow off the rest of the conference."

"Grissom would totally fire us."

"Nah. I'll call and tell him we caught the flu. Griss won't want to waste time talkin' to the both of us, he'll be too focused on a case, or a bug, or pretending not to want Sara. He trusts me, so he won't suspect a thing. Mmm…he'll never know how we really spent our time or his money."

_____________________________

_The date was special for a lot of reasons, Steve._

_I want specifics, so I can live vicariously. What was her name?_

_Greta. She's Norwegian. They're a quirky yet lovable people. Greta loved to wear loud clothing, screw up her hair, listen to weird music, and leave the caps off everything. I'm her polar opposite, but in spite of our differences, Greta and I became really good friends. So, when our boss told us he was sending us to a forensics conference in Pittsburgh, we were happy to be going together. We had to present cases the first two days, which was grueling, and then just had to attend the seminars, meetings, and dinners, the other five. But we ended up missing the last five days, because we had both fallen hard and didn't want to be around other people. _

Grissom scowled at his duplicitous employee. "Fallen hard with **a flu bug**, right Greg? That's what Nick told me over the phone six years ago."

"No, no he didn't. His exact words were "Overnight something happened, we couldn't sleep and we started sweating. By morning, our muscles were aching and neither of us had the strength to get out of bed. I think somethin' got to us in that nasty-ass cab we took to McCarran, or on that cramped plane ride, maybe we should fly business class next time."

"I can't believe Nick lied to me."

"I can't believe a talented Criminologist like you never pieced together the evidence."

_Steve, it all started with the cab ride…_

______________

**ANs:**

And that's where the next chapter will start as well  The Pittsburgh story is purposely being told out of sequence. This chapter was the middle of the conference, and you'll get to see what happened before and after the stuff in this chapter.

If you're looking up the songs, Straight to Number One is by Touch and Go and there are 2 different versions of the same exact song. The Dreamcatcher mix mentioned in the story is the slow one. It was used during a Justin and Brian scene in QAF and that's when Greg got attached to it ;) Oddly enough, Lance and Lacey danced to the fast version this week on Dancing with the Stars as I was writing this chapter. Personally I love the song both ways :) Flowers Become Screens is a personal favorite too.

Thanks for reading and a special thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. It was helpful to read your comments. For anyone who isn't sure how everything is going to come together, everything is connected and I do have a plan, only time will tell if it's a good plan LOL

Have a great weekend!

**Maggs **


	6. Chapter 6

**Bleeding Love – Part 6**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

**December 5, 2002 **

When Nick's doorbell finally rang at 7:25pm, he rushed to open it, intent on blasting his co-worker. "What the hell, Sanders?!"

"What?" While struggling to carry his laptop bag, two suitcases, and two garment bags, the lab rat entered Nick's townhouse wondering what he had done wrong. "I'm within the luggage limit."

"Look what time it is." Nick shoved his watch in front of Greg's face. "The cab is comin' at 7:30."

"It's 7:24."

"Exactly! You were almost late. You better not cut it down to the wire in the morning when we have to present."

"Right…right." Recalling the warning he had received earlier, Greg sympathetically smiled at his tightly wound friend. "Grissom and Catherine told me you get really tense when you have present at conferences. They said it starts as soon as you put your suitcases by the door and it doesn't stop until you're done presenting. That's why Grissom pulls strings to have your presentations scheduled at the beginning of the week…and why no one else signed up to go with you."

"People pay good money to go to these things, so they deserve a good lecture. I take my job seriously, man. If you do anything to make me look bad…"

"I won't. Scout's honor."

"Like they woulda let you in scouts."

"Surprise, surprise, you're not the only Eagle Scout in this room."

"You made it to Eagle?"

"My mommy made me finish."

"I'm sure California has lower standards than Texas."

"When I came out to my family after college, my Papa Olaf turned to my bawling mother and said 'It's your fault you're not going to have a daughter-in-law and grandchildren, Connie. You forced Gregory to spend his horny teenage years hanging out in the woods with bunch of hard up boys roasting wieners. He had no choice but to go primal.' We laugh about it now, but my Nana Olaf hasn't been able to eat a hot dog since. If you ever decide to come out to your family, feel free to use the Papa Olaf Eagle Scout theory. "

"Trust me, it wouldn't help." It was still hard getting used to someone in Vegas knowing he was gay. "I shoulda lied when you asked me."

"You were too drunk to lie." _And you were dying to tell someone._

"Which reminds me – no boozing until after we're completely done presenting, and we're on the DL there, just like we are here, because…"

"I know, I know, Forensics is a small world, and Forensics people talk to cops, and cops talk to each other, and there are lots of homophobic cops, and we have to work with cops. See, your lecture is etched in my brain and I'm not going to do anything to piss you off, because Grissom is going to ask you for feedback on my performance." Placing his laptop bag with the suitcases, the CSI wannabe excitedly shared, "Griss said if I can make it through this week without losing it around you, or you pounding me, he'll know I have the patience, discipline, and professionalism to work in the field. He's already denied my request to begin field training twice, so if I blow anything this week, I'm lookin' at a life sentence of spunk, spit, and blood in DNA."

"How do you think the spunk, spit, and blood gets to DNA, genius?"

"By truck."

The CSI 3 rolled his eyes. "What I mean is, if you become a CSI, you won't be escaping the spunk, spit, and blood, you'll be the guy collecting it."

"Being out of the lab will make up for the suffering." Glancing around for what might be a bathroom door, he said, "I need to pee. Where can I pee?"

"Your apartment would be my first choice." Nick reluctantly pointed to the second door to the right. "Hurry up." He called after him. "And don't make a mess!"

"I'll be sure to straighten the hand towels!" The one time he visited Nick's old place, he received a five minute lecture for balling up a towel and stuffing it into the rack, instead of folding it neatly.

Nick decided to use his time wisely, counting his luggage to make sure it was all still there, and then checking his plane ticket, in case it had managed to leap out of his messenger bag in the last ten minutes.

"Mr. Stokes? I'm Joy Brennan from Heavenly Cabs – proudly offering the cleanest rides in Sin City."

"Yeah, that's why I picked you guys out of the phone book." When he glanced up, Nick was surprised to see a smiling middle-aged woman wearing a tacky blue floral sweatshirt and a silver cross big enough to ward off vampires. "You're the taxi driver?"

"You were probably expecting a smelly heathen foreigner instead of a squeaky clean white Christian woman." She knew the young man with an American flag and Texas A&M memorabilia on display in his living room would be grateful.

The politically incorrect comment throwing him off balance, Nick stammered, "Uh…I…" Remembering the post-9/11 airport security time requirements, he realized he didn't have time to piss off the cabbie and call for another.

"Are these your bags?"

"Uh…yeah, those are mine, but these are my…" Before he could finish, his smartass coworker yelled from the bathroom.

"I'll be right out, honey! I just have to straighten the fringe on the throw rug and fold the end of the toilet paper back into a perfect equilateral triangle, so you won't beat me!"

Nick rushed to explain, "That's my coworker jokin' around. We're going to a conference. It's the end of the year and the department is really over budget, so we have to share a ride. Normally I'd leave my truck at the airport, but they won't reimburse and I'm broke from buying my eleven nieces and nephews Christmas gifts. Christmas is a big deal in my family, so I don't mind spendin' the cash. After we get back from Christmas Eve service, we let the kids open one gift each. It's really sweet."

"Aww." Joy felt bad for thinking the very worst of such a thoughtful Christian man.

"Done!" Greg proudly announced as he flew out of the bathroom "With twenty-nine seconds to spare before the cab gets here. Oh, it's already here."

When she saw a baby-faced young man wearing a crazy pink paisley shirt, Joy knew her original instincts had been right, and that the Lord had brought her there for a reason. "I'll just grab your bags and…"

"Here." Raised as a southern gentleman, Nick lurched forward to grab his suitcase and garment bag. "My mama would smack me if I stood by and let a woman do all the work."

"Mine too."

_Mama's boys_, Joy thought, rolling her eyes. _When are mothers going to learn that coddling their sons ultimately leads to damnation?_

A few minutes later, after loading the luggage in silence, and checking to see if the coffeemaker was still unplugged, Nick locked the front door and twisted the knob three times to make sure it was locked. "Let's go!"

"Don't yell at me," Greg chuckled, "I'm the one leaning against the cab waiting for you." Shaking his head, he slipped into the back seat and slid over so his coworker had room. "What the…" There were religious buttons everywhere, a large color photo of Jesus, a stack of Bibles on the front seat, and religious music on the radio. "Is it legal to evangelize in a cab?" Turning to Nick he whispered, "Why did you pick this company?"

Leaning close, Nick replied, "Their motto is 'the cleanest cabs in Sin City', and I hate riding in filth. I didn't know the company's name was a play on words."

Watching the men whisper sweet nothings in her rear view mirror, Joy abruptly announced, "At this time I would like to remind you that public sex is illegal in Las Vegas."

Offended by the woman and her cab, Greg replied, "Yeah, and discrimination is illegal in all 50 states."

"I'm not discriminating," Joy cheerily informed the sinner, "I tell all my customers that information, along with smoking, drinking, and drug use are not permitted in this vehicle."

His gut twisting into a tighter knot, Nick muttered, "I just want to be on time for the airport."

Knowing his friend was already overwrought with presentation anxiety, Greg nodded and stayed quiet.

Turning down the music, Joy sweetly made an offer to the lost souls, "I have candies in the cup holders, take as many as you'd like. Same thing with the reading material in the seat pockets, it's yours if you want it."

"Thanks, I already have a Bible," Greg politely replied, hoping a non-aggressive response would shut her up. "My grandparents gave it to me before I went on my first youth retreat, I've read it cover to cover, and I still bring it with me every time I go to church with them." Although she probably wouldn't believe him, every word of it was true.

When Nick peered into the cup holder he saw wrapped peppermint candies, each with a note saying '_Ready to cool off from a sinful lifestyle? Salvation is only a prayer away'_ and bags of Red Hots with labels reading _'These candies are weak compared to the burn of eternal hellfire. Don't delay, ask the Lord for forgiveness today.'_

Following up on the young man's comments, Joy stated, "So you're a Christian."

"No. I don't like labels. I prefer to say I have a personal relationship with God."

No matter how far he moved into the corner of the taxi, Nick could feel the eyes of the Jesus poster bearing down on him.

The young man's response baffled Joy. "I don't understand. If you have accepted Christ into your heart, then why don't you call yourself a Christian?"

Unable to stop himself, Greg answered, "To borrow a quote, 'I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."

Sickened by the statement, Joy asked, "What horrible, hateful, Satanist said that?"

"Mahatma Gandhi."

The Muslim name was all she needed to hear. "Why on Earth would you listen to what a **terrorist** says about Christ? The guy is probably related to Bin Laden."

While Nick was wiping beads of sweat off his forehead, Greg burst out laughing.

"Oh you think that was funny, do you?" Feeling sorry for the misguided boy, Joy kept fighting for his salvation. "You won't be laughing on Judgment Day."

Hearing the phrase sent a chill through Nick's body, and soon a parade of bad memories was marching through his head. _You can fool yourself, Nicholas, but God is watching and He will have the last laugh on Judgment Day_.

Done with irrational debate, Greg said, "Look, you're wasting your time, because no amount of lecturing, or scripture quoting, or guilt from you is going to affect me, because you are a stranger whose opinion means nothing to me. I know my parents and grandparents love me just the way I am. I don't believe God hates me for being who He made me. When I go home for Christmas, I go with my family to the same UCC church I grew up in and everyone welcomes me."

"Of course they do, they're Christians. Hate the sin, love the sinner."

"HA! You just quoted Gandhi!" Greg's laughter filled the cab.

Feeling the walls of the cab closing in around him, Nick lowered the window to get some air. _God still loves you, Nick, he just hates what you're doing. You temporarily lost your way on the path to salvation, but the good news is, it's not too late to change. Everyone here wants to help you. You need to let us help you. _"Stop the car."

When Greg saw his friend was as white as a ghost and sweating, he panicked. "What's wrong?"

"Stop the car!"

Joy huffed, "I can't stop in the middle of…"

"Stop the fucking car!" Nick screamed as he gripped his hair.

Jerking the taxi to the curb, Joy reprimanded her customer, "Profanity is not permitted in this vehicle!"

When the car came to a screeching halt, Nick threw open the door and jumped out, making it to a trash can just in time.

"Praise God." Tears of joy filled Joy's eyes "I think I got to your friend."

"I'll say." When he saw his friend doubled over, gripping his gut, and hurling, Greg rushed to check on him.

"That's right! Purge everything!" Joy yelled from the passenger's side window. "It's the demon inside you! Let it out!"

A wasted young man wearing an ASU sweatshirt, rushed to the cab. "I've got a demon inside me too!" He grabbed his crotch. "Right here in my pants! It just turned 21 today!" As his fraternity brothers broke into a spontaneous round of 'Happy Birthday Billy' for the fifteenth time that day, he heard a woman calling his name.

"Yo, Birthday Billy! For a hundred bucks you can put your big demon inside me!"

Turning to his band of brothers, Billy screamed, "I need a hundred bucks! Someone give me a hundred bucks!"

Desperate to save everyone, Joy grabbed her refill bucket of candy. Tossing the messaged mints and Red Hots into the air, she prayed that at least one of the depraved would get hit in the head and think it was a sign from above.

"What the…" When the birthday boy got nailed in the nose with a bag of Red Hots, he faced his brothers and threw open his arms. "You guys got me a plane ticket, a lap dance,** and** a piñata?! This is the best birthday EVER! I love all of you! And Vegas! And candy!" Diving for a pack of Red Hots, he crashed head first into a newspaper vending machine.

Tuning out the typical Friday night madness, Greg focused on his friend. "You want me to grab you a Sprite or something?" Smoothing his palm over Nick's back, he said, "What do you want me to do?"

Lifting his head from the trash can, Nick only saw a blur of people. "I can't go back in there." His whole body shaking, he grabbed Greg's arm. "I can't."

"Okay. Don't worry, we don't have to get back in there." Having no idea what was wrong, but believing it was something serious, Greg guided his seemingly terrified friend to a bench. "Sit right here."

Gripping the edge of the bench, Nick rocked back and forth, desperately trying to breathe. "We can't miss our plane," he panted as the world around him spun out of control. "It's the last red-eye to…"

"Don't worry. We have plenty of time before our flight. You just sit there and I'll grab our stuff from the cab from hell."

* * *

_The cab driver was nuts, Steve. One of those Holy Roller types who thinks she can bop around Vegas gettin' people to stop boozin' and gamblin' just by sayin' one-liners. _

_Like the guys who stand on street corners with the signs that say 'The End is Near'. _

_Exactly! Greta and I weren't in the backseat for two minutes, when the cabbie accused us of trying to fool around. She went as far as to remind us that public sex is illegal in Vegas. We both blushed a deep shade of red, because we were coworkers and never talked about hookin' up or seein' each other that way, but we both secretly felt attracted to one another, so it was really awkward. _

_What did you say?_

_Nothing. We slid to the ends of the backseat and stared out the windows. That's when the lady's lunatic driving started making me car sick. Her cheap perfume didn't help matters. I didn't want to seem like a wuss in front of Greta, because after the sex comment, I was kinda hopin' a seed had been planted, you know what I mean? If she's sittin' there wonderin' what it would be like to kiss me, the last thing I wanted her to see was a bunch of puke flyin' out of my mouth._

Hearing the Nick's captor laughing put Grissom at ease. "It's like he's lulling the guy with a good bedtime story."

"Yeah." Greg's thoughts turned to lazy days in bed listening to Nick weave hilarious tales about his childhood adventures, teenage rebellions, and college football antics. "He's a great storyteller."

_So I crack the window, hopin' some fresh air would make me feel better, but we were in a cheap part of town, so as soon as I opened the window, the smell of boiling hot dogs and wino piss poured into the cab and did me in. I yelled at the driver to stop, jumped out, and found a trash can just in time. _

"He is a very convincing liar." Grissom remarked, still feeling ridiculous for falling for the Pittsburgh Flu Bug bullshit. "Because I've known Nick for a decade and he doesn't get car sick. I don't think he's vomited from a bad smell since he was a Level 1."

"Actually, he really did end up jumping out of the car to get sick." Greg stared at the speaker like it was Nick and not just his voice. "The cabbie really did a number on his stomach." _And his head._

* * *

**December 5, 2002**

"Seeing anything good out there?" Greg asked when he returned to his aisle seat with crackers and a can of Sprite. They had been in the air for over an hour, but Nick had spoken only a handful of words. Trying to joke his friend out of a funk, he said, "Red-eye flights leaving Vegas at 10:30 on a Friday night aren't popular, because everyone wants to flying into Vegas at 10:30 on Friday, but there's only like twenty people sleeping in coach when I thought there were at least fifty when we boarded. The rest can't all be mile high clubbing in the bathrooms, so I'm a little worried. You don't see any Twilight Zone demons out there, do you?"

"Nope, just some personal ones." Turning his head, he faced his friend and acknowledged his embarrassing behavior. "Thanks for takin' charge when I was shakin' like a dog shittin' peach pits. I owe you one."

Even though the mood was somber, Greg couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Sorry, it's the first time I've heard that nugget of hillbilly wisdom. It produces a powerful visual." After cracking open the Sprite, he presented the can. "I went up front and asked the Flight Attendant for this and they had some crackers for people who get airsick, so I grabbed a few packs. They have teething biscuits and pretzels too."

"No, this is just what I wanted." Nick reached for the can. "Thanks for thinkin' of me."

When his friend's fingertips brushed over his, Greg felt a familiar tingle in his stomach. "Any time." As much as he tried to deny his ever-building attraction to his coworker, those little moments of undeniable chemistry were always reminding him it was still there. "If you need to talk about whatever happened back in that cab, I'm here, and you have my word that I wouldn't repeat anything you told me in confidence."

"I don't need to talk, thanks." Without making eye contact, Nick reached for a cracker packet.

"I'm a really good listener and there's nobody around for ten rows. It's almost midnight, so I doubt anyone will be wandering around and…"

"Really, I'm fine." Nick returned to staring out the window.

"Cool." Greg reached for a magazine. "But if you change your mind…"

"Sanders!" But when he turned and saw nothing but concern in his friend's eyes, he softened. "Fine. If you feel like talkin', we can talk. Whaddya want to know?"

"I think we should talk about what happened back in the cab. Whatever was going on in your head, it looked pretty serious and I'm afraid if you go to the conference with all that tension still inside of you and then add the presentation stress on top of it…"

"How bad did it look?"

"Bad. Like you were having a serious panic attack or some kind of total PTSD freakout."

"That's exactly what it was" the tormented man quietly admitted.

"Do you get them a lot?"

"No, the last one I had was about a month after the Nigel incident when I thought this guy was following me."

"What triggered this one?"

"The stuff the cab driver was sayin'."

Greg shook his head. "You can't let people like her get to you."

"No, that's not it." After taking a deep breath, Nick anxiously said, "If I tell you this, you gotta take it to the grave, understand? And I'd know it was you who blabbed if you did, because only two people in this world know what happened and one is dead and other one hasn't said a word about it in since it all went down."

"I promise your secrets will always be safe with me."

"Okay." Nick pulled in a deep breath and tried to figure out how to talk about the best and worst thing that ever happened to him. "I think to give you the whole picture, I have to start with high school…"

* * *

**ANs: **

And the next chapter will have the continuation of Nick's story.

Thanks for the comments on the last chapter, I've replied to everyone : )

Right now the backstory is being featured, but the story will resume fully focusing on the current plotlines as soon as the backstory is out there. The stuff that's going through Greg's mind as he listens, plus the things Nick is saying, will also have an impact on Grissom and his current personal crisis : ) LOL there really is a plan for it to all come together, as improbable as that might seem at the moment.

Thanks for reading,

Maggs


	7. Chapter 7

**Bleeding Love – Part 7**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

**December 6, 2002**

**Cruising Altitude: 26,000 feet **

After chugging two airplane bottles of whisky and using the restroom, Nick finally started talking, "I don't know about you, but I spent most of my high school days trying to pretend there was nothing wrong me. Any time I'd catch myself checkin' out a guy or thinkin' about doin' something to satisfy the urge, I'd do one of three things…find a girl to fool around with, whack off with a Playboy magazine, or I'd go out with my jock buddies to raise hell and feel like one of the guys."

"What did you do with the guys?"

"We usually started out at my friend Kevin's, his folks had this huge ranch. We'd drink out in their fields, or race tractors, or hop into a pickup and play mailbox baseball. I honestly believed all that self therapy was working and that one morning I'd just wake up and only think about girls."

"It was totally different for me," Greg announced after verifying there wasn't a drop of whisky left in either of the two tiny bottles in front of him. "It probably wasn't smart to slam two of these on stomachs lined with saltines when we're flying. We'll catch a wicked buzz."

"That's exactly why I drank 'em," Nick winked, "and why I asked the flight attendant to bring us thirds." His goal was to forget what happened in the taxi and avoid telling Greg why it happened. "What was it like for you when you were a teen?"

"I didn't have any feelings until sophomore year."

"That late?"

"I skipped ahead, so I was younger than I was supposed to be in 10th grade. I should've been in 8th."

"Right."

"Sophomore year I was attracted to girls and boys, and by junior year, I felt like a freak for not having a strong preference either way. I'd flirt with Staci Porter in AP Chem and Bobby Drake in AP Bio. One night I'd fantasize about takin' Staci to the prom, and the next night, I'd be dreamin' that Bobby and I were ripping each other's clothes off."

"But who did you sexually attract, guys or girls?"

"No one," Greg sighed. "High school, college, now…people like me, but they don't want to date me. My senior year of high school I asked my best gal pal why she thought I had no luck getting a boyfriend or girlfriend when everyone was always saying I was nice, cute, funny, and smart. Her theory was that I gave off a gender neutral vibe that was too effeminate to attract girls, but not queer enough to attract boys." He sweetly chuckled, "Besides that and my age difference, she also said it didn't help that I was a science geek with perfect SAT scores, president of the Chess Club, and an Eagle Scout with overprotective mother who was a teacher on campus."

"Ooh, yeah, that's a perfect formula for celibacy." An image of high school Greg popped into Nick's head. "So I bet you were the guy who helped jocks with their homework, befriended the misfits, and gave your shoulder to any girl who needed to cry about her boyfriend. At some point the girl would look into your eyes and sniffle 'you're such a good friend, Greg, I wish my boyfriend was more like you', but when you asked them to go out with you, they'd laugh, pat ya on the head like a puppy, and then go find a bad boy to swap spit with instead."

"Wow, it's like you were there."

"There's a guy like that in every high school…and every high school movie."

"Yeah, I empathized with Duckie when I saw Pretty in Pink, only I wanted to take Molly Ringwald to the prom and then hook up with Andrew McCarthy afterwards."

"I was the guy Molly Ringwald hooked up with after she was done cryin' on Duckie's shoulder about Andrew McCarthy dumping her after the prom." Lowering his voice to a whisper, Nick said, "And since I had somethin' to prove, I'd fool around with Molly until she wanted an actual relationship, then I'd tell her I didn't have time for a girlfriend with sports and work and all I had goin' on."

Greg shook his head. "That's when she'd come running back to the Duck Man, who would be standing there with a tissue box every time."

"Yeah" Nick reached over and patted his buddy on the chest. "Sorry, Duckie."

It wasn't the first time Nick had jokingly patted his chest to console him, he did it at the lab all the time, usually when he had just coerced a promise of rushed DNA results. Sometimes he'd do a chest pat, shoulder squeeze combo, and other times he tossed a wink or said 'thanks, doll'. The move always provoked pangs of attraction, but having him do it in semi-darkness, in a confined space, while exchanging secrets and discussing sex, was too much to bear. "Are you cold? I'm cold." Greg jumped out of his seat and popped open an overhead bin. "I saw some blankets up here."

"Yeah, I'll take one." Hearing his voice crack, Nick forcefully coughed into his hand to clear his throat. "I was just thinkin' it's freezing in here."

"Here." Greg tossed a navy blue blanket at his coworker. "Want another pillow?"

"Sure." Grinning, Nick caught the fluffy white rectangle. "It's easy to see why emotional chicks kept comin' back to your shoulder, G."

"Why?"

"Because I felt like shit on a shoe when we board this plane, but now that you've given me Sprite and crackers, offered to listen to my problems, and tucked me in, I'm feeling **much **better."

Fanning out his blanket, Greg blurted, "And just like old times, I'm horny from getting too close to someone who would laugh in my face if I asked them to touch me." Realizing he had spoken his thoughts out loud, he scrambled to joke his way out of the situation. "Gotcha! I just wanted to see if you were listening to me." Thankfully he had a reason to interrupt himself from overtalking. "Look! Chad the flaming flight attendant is bringing our booze."

"Another round for the boys in blue…blankies." Chad gave all four bottles of whisky to the Texan. "Extra round is on me, cowboy, no lassos attached." Winking he added, "I'm the only one working coach tonight, and I promise not to come back here unless you call me. Nighty night."

Once they were alone, Greg turned to Nick. "Does he think we're going to…"

"Fool around?" Nick laughed. "A couple of guys sittin' in the back of empty plane drinkin' whisky and pulling out blankets probably made him leap to that conclusion, yeah."

"That's so cool!" Greg excitedly explained, "He really thinks I'm with you, which means he thinks I'm good enough to be with somebody like you, which hopefully means guys in Pittsburgh will think the same way. Liberty Avenue here I come!"

"And when you get there, you'll be more than a little disappointed that it's not the gay Disneyland you see on Queer as Folk." He only started watching the show, because Greg constantly whined that he wanted to discuss the episodes with someone other than his mother.

"Just tell me where to find Brian Kinney?"

"I knew you were gonna say that." Nick chuckled.

Twisting open a third bottle of whisky, Greg floated back to reality. "I'm like a three on the Justin Taylor hotness scale. Brian wouldn't touch a guy with a JT rating of three."

"Don't sell yourself short, Greggo." Enjoying the high altitude buzz, Nick snarked, "I think Brian would at least let you drop to your knees in the steam room while he was waiting to find someone good enough to screw." He shoved his buddy and parroted his earlier words, "Gotcha! I just wanted to see if you were listening to me."

"What? Sorry, I tuned you out right after you gave me that visual of Brian in the steam room."

"Assuming for a minute Kinney was actually real. Why would you want to be with a moody controlling prick like him? I can't imagine it workin' out any better for you than it has for Justin, who I think should stay with Ethan and forget Brian every existed."

"I wouldn't be stupid like Justin and fall in love with Brian after one night of passion. And when season three starts, twenty bucks says Justin's back with Brian by episode six." Greg polished off his third bottle and dreamily sighed, "I just want Brian to be the first guy who takes me to the stars, so my first time is memorable."

Nick choked on his booze. "You mean you've never…"

"Only with a woman."

"You couldn't find a guy willin' to sleep with you, even when you were livin' in San Francisco?"

"I wasn't ready for sex when I was in college. Physically, I was always a late bloomer. I didn't even learn to ride a bike until the 2nd grade." When Nick wouldn't stop gaping, Greg snapped, "Hey, it's not like I'm Grissom's age. I only turned 24 this year. I'm hardly a…"

"Chill out, Cherry Butt." Nick patted his pal on the chest. "I think it's smart that you waited when you knew you weren't ready. I think everyone should do that. I wish I had."

"How old were you when you first…"

"Eighteen. My senior year of high school."

"Girl or guy?"

"Guy."

"Bottom or top?"

"Definitely not top." Nick bristled at the memory. "Remember when we were waiting for the DNA results on that ear I found at the pizza stand and we got into a heated debate over Brian and Justin's first time. I thought the guy was condescending bastard who got off on makin' it rough for the kid when it didn't have to be that way."

"Yeah."

"You said you were turned on by the scene. Well, now it makes sense why you felt that way. You've never been in that position before, but I have, and the guy I was with, he wasn't half as generous as Brian."

"Who was it?"

"My brother's Grad School roommate. I went to visit my brother for the weekend, but his fiancée won tickets to a concert for Saturday night, and they wanted to go. He felt bad and brought home a six pack and a pizza, tossed some porn videos on the coffee table and told me to stay in the apartment like a good little brother. I was fine with the arrangement, because I loved pizza and beer."

"Me too," Greg announced with geeky flair.

"Okay, good to know. Anyway, when I was done eating, I popped in one of the videos, hoping it would help me get hot for girls." Nick's voice grew chilly. "That's when Dan came home. I was glad he caught me watchin' naked chicks, because I figured he'd give me an atta boy slap on the back and tell my brother, which would be helpful in case anyone at home grew suspicious in the future. Tryin' to be cool, I said 'hey, Dan, my brother gave me these movies to watch. Aren't these babes are hot!' Or something dorky like that."

Greg tensed, sensing the bad part of the story was coming.

"Dan laughed, sat down on the coffee table in front of me, and said, 'So, I guess Billy hasn't figured out your gay yet. Don't worry, I've been livin' with him for five years and he still doesn't have a clue about me. I couldn't believe he just blurted that out, and that he had figured it out before I did."

"You must have been shakin' like a dog poopin' peach pits'." Greg was proud that he managed to work the newly acquired phrase into the right context.

"Yeah, and I didn't stop for hours. The next thing I know the guy's hands are runnin' up my thighs and he's askin' me what do I like to do, and trust me, 'Episode One Justin' sounded articulate compared to me back then…plus Dan was even hotter than Brian."

"Whoa."

"He asks me if I want him to show me everything I needed to know, sayin' that an older guy did the same favor for him and it really help build his confidence. I jump at the chance, and he takes me to his room, immediately dropping to his knees. I think I've won the lottery, because at that point, I've only had three BJs in my lifetime and they were all from girls tryin' it for the first time. Dan knew what he was doing, and I was so overwhelmed that it only took three minutes to finish me off. I didn't get to enjoy the afterglow though, because the next thing I knew I was on my stomach learning first hand what 'pillow biter' meant."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, and when I finally had the oxygen and the courage to say I wanted him to stop, he laughed and said, 'what are you going to do, if I keep goin'? Tell your brother that I gave you more sex than you came in here looking for?' He knew I couldn't say anything without outing myself. I was totally trapped, and I was frickin' lucky that he wore a condom, because there was nothin' I could've done about it if he didn't, the guy was six foot four and had played first string defense, and I was five ten and a high school running back. I was at his beck and call for hours doin' whatever he told me to do. Then when he'd finally had enough, he handed me a beer and said 'I told you I would show you everything a clueless boy like you needs to know, which is…it's pretty fuckin' stupid to say yes to a guy unless you know him well enough to trust him. Some day you'll look back on this experience and thank me. Now get your clothes and get out of my room, Little Nicky. Your homophobic big brother, who's obviously worried there's somethin' wrong with you, will want to see you sittin' on the couch droolin' over girls'."

"Seriously?!" Greg wanted to hunt the guy down and kick him in the nuts. "After everything he did to your body, he screwed with your head too?"

"Yep."

"Dan the Man really thought that was the **best way** he could have taught you a lesson?"

"The best way **for him**, yeah." Nick shook his head at his own stupidity. "It was my fault I ended up in the situation. I said yes and went to his room. I wanted the experience, just not the one he ended up givin' me. When he offered, I was too stupid and horny to notice that he never said it would be a **good** experience."

"He should have listened when you said stop."

"Did Brian listen when Justin was sayin' it hurt? No, he shut him down and told him it was supposed to be like that, and Justin left there believin' he had the perfect first time. But it could have been better, even self-absorbed Brian eventually acknowledged that – the first time they do it after the gay bashing and Justin is still jittery from nearly bein' beaten to death. Justin asks him to go slow and Brian answers 'like the first time' and they decide to start over by makin' love."

"You know, for a guy who says he hates that show and only watches it so I will process his DNA samples faster, you seem pretty emotionally invested."

"It's the whisky talkin'." Greg's infectious smile prompted Nick's to return. "G…just promise me, if you're intent on givin' it up to someone this week, that you'll choose wisely."

"Maybe we should go cruising together for someone for me, and you can let your experience and gut instinct size up the guy and tell me yes or no."

Nick's laughter returned. "Are you askin' me to be the **gatekeeper **of your assginity?"

"Unless you'd rather be the **keymaster?**" _That would be even better. _

"HA! Ghostbusters is an awesome movie." Nick lifted his fourth bottle to toast to the deal. "I promise to look after your assets, Greggo."

Greg clanked his bottle to his buddy's. "Thanks." Chuckling, he disposed of his latest empty and asked another probing question. "What about your first time with a girl?"

"That was two weeks after the Dan nightmare." Nick slipped his empty bottle into the seat pocket in front of him. "I thought maybe a great experience with a girl right after a horrible experience with a guy would prove that chicks were the way to go."

"And?"

Nick shivered at the memory. "That was horrible too, but for very different reasons."

"What happened?"

"It was the first for both of us, so of course the whole experience was gonna be awkward, even though she was totally into it, but it went waaaaaaay beyond awkward. First of all, it was stressful, because I was tryin' really hard to make it perfect for her, while coverin' up my guilt."

"Why were you feeling guilty if she wanted to sleep with you and you were trying to make it perfect for her?"

"Because I knew Margie gave it up to gentlemanly, responsible Nick, the sweet guy she had known since kindergarten. She only said yes to me because I was safe and because she believed I'd treat her right, which technically was true, but…if she had known I had volunteered to bend over for a guy two weeks earlier, she wouldn't have touched me with a ten foot pole. That's why I felt guilty."

"You don't know for sure that she…"

"Oh, I know, believe me. She was terrified to lend a pen to the kid in our class who had to have a blood transfusion the year before, because she was worried he might have innocently caught AIDS, which she referred to as 'the gay plague'."

"Okay, yeah, she probably would have balked even if you told her you had safe sex with the guy." Considering the details Nick had shared 'safe' didn't sound exactly right. "Um…and if you and Margie were using a condom…"

"About the condom...."

"What? You have sex without condoms." His mother's lectures on the subject echoed in his head. "Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm not, that's why a jacket is always required on dates with me. C'mon, if I won't ride in a dirty taxi cab, do you really think I'm gonna ride a…"

"HA! Yeah, I believe you." _That would have been a deal breaker, Tex._ "So what happened with Margie?"

"When we were in the backseat trying to modestly untangle ourselves, it got awkward." Nick hated reliving the drama, but since Greg wanted to know, he kept sharing. "She moved too fast and the condom slipped off while I was right **there**."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah, a battalion of my little soldiers fell right into her foxhole."

"Doh!"

"We freaked. She cried. Then I cried because she was cryin'. We cried a lot, but not as much as we did when her period didn't show up on time."

"No."

"While we were doin' the pregnancy test, I remember tryin' to imagine my dad's reaction to 'I kinda messed up and got the seventeen year old pastor's daughter pregnant. Sorry.' And then I had this nightmare of Pastor John marchin' me down the aisle with a shotgun to my head. I also recalled how much my body hurt after Dan was done with me, but then realizin' a sore ass doesn't hang around for the rest of your life and cost a fortune to raise! I think that was the defining moment for me," he chuckled. "As I puked up my breakfast waiting for the stick to turn blue or pink, I knew I was gay."

"See, this is why I appreciate my sheltered and boring life." Greg didn't mean to laugh, but he did. "Sorry."

"What's the worst thing that ever happened to you?"

"On the Nick Stokes scale? Honestly, everything in my life reads like a paper cut."

"Here's hoping it stays just like that for you, Greggo." Nick smiled, "Because Lord knows we need someone at the lab to be carefree instead of bogged down by personal and professional drama."

"So did the stick turn blue?"

"No, and thankfully the mighty river ran red a few days later and we both started breathin' again." Nick chuckled, "After that scare, I didn't touch another girl unless she had proof she was on the pill, and then I'd used a condom with spermicide."

"Why did you touch them at all if you had figured out you were definitely gay?"

"Because of what Dan said about my brother, he had me really worried that my family was suspicious. After that, I had no choice but to date chicks." He snickered and nudged his buddy. "It's not like I was the dorky Chess Club President and people would expect me to be dateless. I was a football star, and I was hot."

"Still are." Grinning, Greg settled in for another chapter of Nick's life. "Keep talkin', Tex, keeeeeep talkin'."

* * *

_Steve, you're gonna love this part. As Greta and I got to drinkin' and talkin' on the plane, she let it slip that she was a virgin and that she was hopin' to change her status on the trip. _

Grissom glared at Greg, whose back was now turned to him. "You lost your virginity to Nick on the taxpayer's dime?"

"Pleeeeease stop listening."

"No." Grissom took great pleasure in seeing his sneaky employee squirming. "I'll consider this payback, unless you'd rather fork over the cash for the five nights at the Omni that were pleasure, not business? And that includes your per diems and room charges."

"In this economy?" Greg took a seat on the curb. "Thanks to George W. Bush, I can't afford discretion. Go ahead, McPervy, enjoy the naughty details."

* * *

**ANs **

The rest of the airplane ride in the next chapter. More secrets revealed. It should be up Friday.

Thanks for reading and the comments on the last chapter! It was helpful to hear that the transitions were working and that the time shifts were clear.

Happy Thanksgiving if you're celebrating it tomorrow!

**Maggs **


	8. Chapter 8

**Bleeding Love – Part 8**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

**December 6, 2002**

**Cruising Altitude: 30,000 feet **

After telling his horrible 'first time' story, Nick felt he needed to rewind and explain how he got to such a desperate point the first place. "Bein' the baby of the family, everyone was already away at college or married by the time I was a junior in high school, and my mom and dad were always workin'."

"So, you had plenty of time and opportunity to get in trouble."

"Yeah, and my folks never suspected anything was wrong, because I had a perfect 4.0, never missed a day's work at my part-time job, was active in church youth group, and was a star player on the football team. All everyone saw was perfect, responsible, hard-working Nick who could have any girl he wanted."

"Which is exactly how everyone at the lab sees you." _Minus one mishap with the hooker that people are still talking about a year later. I need to add that to my list of things to ask you about this week. _

"Hmm." Nick had never stepped back and considered he'd been propping the same false image of perfection for so many years.

"Tex, it's not surprising that you're always tense. Between the stressful job and trying to maintain an alternative reality for your family and everyone around you, how could you not be exhausted and edgy all the time? At least I can call or visit my family when I need a boost, you don't have that outlet. I couldn't live like that, I'd explode."

"I know it's not healthy." The lonely and conflicted man shrugged. "But there's not much I can do."

"You could talk to a therapist or…"

"No." The alcohol fueling his emotions and body language, Nick whipped his head from side to side. "**Not** a possibility. I will never,** ever** let someone fuck with my head to make me **their version** of normal."

"I'm guessing you had a bad therapy experience."

"Bad doesn't begin to describe it."

"What happened?"

Nick fervently shook his head again. "Greggo, I'm not nearly drunk enough to talk about that nightmare yet."

"That bad?"

"Let me put it this way." Plunking his hand on his buddy's shoulder, Nick said, "If I had to choose between therapy and being coated in bacon grease before being thrown into a pack of ravenous wolves, I'd pick the wolves and take my chances."

"Okay, so therapy is out." Smiling brightly, Greg seized the opportunity to tighten the bond they were building. "I'm hardly an expert on life, but you can always talk to me. Maybe that'll help a little."

"I think it might," Nick replied, suddenly happy that he had taken a chance and let Greg know some of his secrets.

Anxious for more insight into his friend's colorful life, Greg prodded, "It had to be hard covering everything when you were under your parents' roof."

"Yeah, and it wasn't like I could tell anyone at school what I was feeling, not where I was livin', and if there was anyone else who felt like me, I knew they weren't gonna talk either. Takin' a chance that you **might **be right about someone bein' gay - no way, it was too risky, because if you were wrong, you knew you'd be gettin' your ass kicked and prayin' that you die in the process. Because the only thing worse than guys findin' out you were gay and killin' ya, would be guys findin' out you were gay and you still bein' alive when they told everyone else…especially your politically conservative Southern Baptist parents, your star quarterback big brother, and the guys you had been sharin' a locker room with for years."

"Yeah," Greg nodded, "since one of my biggest fears is getting bashed to a pulp, I would've kept quiet and worked out my aggression smashing mailboxes too. It also explains why you jumped at Dan's offer. It had to be a relief just to know you weren't the only gay boy in Texas."

"I also jumped at the chance because I was hoping to get skills that I could share with someone back home."

"But I thought you said you couldn't tell anyone?"

"I couldn't, but right before I went to visit my brother, something amazing happened." Fueled by an intense whisky buzz, and the intimacy that sharing secrets brings, Nick inched closer to Greg. "My parents went to Tulsa for a wedding, so I had the whole place to myself for the weekend."

"House party!"

"No." Resting his head on the middle seat, Nick returned his buddy's gaze. "When my brother was a high school senior, he had a party that went so out of control, the cops came. Believe me, Judge Stokes was not amused when he was his big anniversary trip with my mom was interrupted by a two a.m. phone call from the cops, who said they found pot at the party. They had to cut the trip short and come home and deal with everything. The cops looked the other way on the pot as a courtesy to my father, but that didn't change how pissed he was. First he backslapped my brother, giving him a bloody lip, and then he grounded him for three months…and grounded in my house meant you didn't go anywhere except work or school, and when you were home you were allowed to study, read, and do chores, that's it, which meant my brother couldn't talk to or take out his girlfriend the whole time."

"Talk about Tough Love."

"Yeah, The Judge is one of the founding fathers of the movement."

"Your brother must have bummed after all that."

"Hell, I haven't even told you the worst part. To pay the police fines and damages to our house, my father sold Billy's car and the horse he had for years. Now my brother is a tough guy who never cries, he didn't even shed a tear when our grandpa died, but the day my father sold Billy's horse, I caught him bawling his eyes out behind the barn. It was one of the only times I felt sorry for him, because most of the time he was an arrogant asshole."

"What did he say when you caught him?"

"Say?" Nick gaped at the naive only child. "Billy shoved me to the ground, pressed a boot to my chest, and screamed 'if you ever tell anyone what you saw, I'll drive you out to the lake and drown you in a sack of rocks like a unwanted runt, which is what you are, Nicky, there were only supposed to be six kids, you were an accident'."

Having been nurtured by loving parents and grandparents, it was difficult for Greg to fathom a family member being so evil. "Seriously? That's not an exaggeration?"

"Honestly? I toned it down."

Greg bristled. "Suddenly I can see why your brother and Dan were compatible roommates, and why you'd swear off house parties after knowing what the punishment would be like."

"And in my hourse, the punishment was always worse for the **second **kid who got caught doin' something similar to what another sibling had already done, because my dad was **big** on learning from mistakes. If you made the same mistake twice, or you made one another kid made, then you got twice the punishment."

"What happened if there was a third time?"

"I don't know, no one was ever brave or stupid enough to push the envelope." Too many bad memories creeping into his head, Nick vulnerably said, "You know, I don't want talk about my family anymore, it's making me depressed, and I don't want to be depressed when I could be having fun with you."

"Moving on!" Greg chuckled, feeling the full effects of the whisky and his proximity to Nick. "So what was the **amazing** thing that happened when your parents were in Tulsa for the wedding?"

Nick rubbed his palms together and grinned. "Kevin, the guy whose folks owned the big ranch where we'd drink - well, he came over to my house to work on our science project all weekend. The project theme was natural disasters, and during class on Friday, we had decided to build a volcano. Then we found out that the Cole brothers, they were twins, were buildin' one, but instead of changing our plans, we figured we'd make ours huuuuge, so theirs would look pathetic."

"Let me see if I've got this **straight**." Greg summarized the story, "Two pent up ranch boys who frequently assaulted defenseless mailboxes, chose to build an exploding phallic symbol for their science project, and their main goal was to make it incredibly huge, so that any other guy's looked much smaller?"

Shaking from suppressed laughter, Nick said, "When you say it like that it sounds so queer." Fearing he'd disturb sleeping passengers, he buried his face between Greg's arm and the seat before cracking up.

_He's leaning on me._ Greg savored the moment, going as far as stealthily sniffing his buddy's hair. "Finish the story, Mr Wizard."

"HA!"

_And now he's slapping my thigh as he leans on me. _Greg adjusted his blanket, letting it overlap over with Nick's. _I could really get used to this._

"Sorry." The formally stressed man wiped his tears of drunken joy. "Damn, this whisky's hittin' me** hard**."

_Did he have to say hard?! _"What did you think was going to happen? We each ate a pack of crackers and then slammed the equivalent of four and half shots at 30,000 feet."

"That's not good."

"No."

Nick pressed the call button. "I normally do **six** shots." Standing up he waved an empty to Chad, who was twenty rows up, and mouthed 'thank you'. "Okay, so where was I?"

"Kevin and the phallic volcano."

"Right!" Recalling the glorious work of art and science, Nick's eyes lit. "The volcano was freakin' huuuuuge, man. A masterpiece. Right up there with The Sixteen Chapel."

"It's actually called The **Sistine **Chapel."

"That's not how we say it in Texas."

"Ah." Greg tried not to laugh, but failed miserably.

When he arrived, Chad decided to joke around with the seemingly fun loving guys. "Why are you still here ordering drinks and chatting? It has to be nerves, because you're both totally screwable."

"I am?!" Greg blurted, feeling honored that the hottie would see him that way. "You would do me?"

Upon hearing his buddy throw himself at the flight attendant, Nick's laughter abruptly ended.

"No, sweetie, I'm afraid I'll have to pass, but don't take it personally," Chad giggled, "the only thing I top is pizza."

"I meant **in theory** would you want me." Greg sheepishly clarified, "Because I'm not available. I'm with someone."

"Who are you with?" Nick slurred, his lips moving faster than his brain.

"You!" Greg replied, feeling more than a little miffed that Nick hadn't noticed they were hooking up. "I thought we were bonding over blankets, booze, and bedtime stories."

"We are."

"Oh." The insecure man's smile reappeared. "Cool."

"I can't thank you boys enough for providing me with some in-flight entertainment. This live episode of Queer as Folk is much better than listening to Passenger 23 snore or watching My Big Fat Greek Wedding for the millionth time. That movie is such a tease – sure they let us watch John Corbett get oiled up, but they don't let us see him go Greek." Holding up the requested whisky, Chad asked, "Okay, which one of you needs the courage in a bottle?" When both men cracked up and pointed to the other, he shook his head. "If you're worried about someone coming back here, don't be, they're all snoozing, and I've put a note halfway up the aisle that says the rear lavatory is closed for cleaning. When people read that, they always think projectile vomit and run the other way." Placing the bottles on the blanket, he warned, "We're landing in four hours, gentlemen. Someone better make a move or you'll miss your enrollment opportunity in the mile high club."

Nick's ego had to set the record straight. "Hell, I've been a member since 1996." Winking at his co-worker, he said, "Grissom and I were…"

"You earned your wings with Grissom?!" Finding out he'd be getting the Bug Man's sloppy seconds was a deal breaker. "Who was the top? No, eww, I don't want to know."

"Are ya tryin' to make me vomit again?" Nick purged the nauseating image from his mind's eye. "Grissom got an upgrade to First Class, but I had to stay in coach. At first I was pissed that he ditched me, but when I was asked by Flight Attendant Todd to take a special tour of the crew area, I got over it."

"Todd Janx, right?" When the passenger nodded, Chad laughed, "Yeah, he's a sucker for guys with accents…literally." Noticing a passenger was standing and scanning the cabin, he waved, "I'll leave you with these words of wisdom, Greg…save a horse, ride a cowboy."

Blushing from the wild thoughts running through his overactive imagination, Greg couldn't think of a witty reply.

"See you later, boys."

"Gimme me one of those." Nick reached to grab a bottle off the blanket.

Greg squirmed at the sight of a man's hand lunging toward his crotch. "Uh, finish your volcano story, Tex."

"Where was I? Wait, I remember." Smirking, Nick twisted open the bottle. "It was time for our first big eruption." He polished off the whisky, waited for the burn to subside, and continued, "We were on the back patio, because we figured the thing would make a big mess."

Channeling Peter from The Brady Bunch, Greg asked, "Did little puffs of smoke come out and did lava ooooooze all over?"

"No, and that pissed us off!" Nick laughed at the memory, "**Nothing **happened. Not one puff of smoke, not a drop a frickin' lava. After five minutes of waiting, I maxed the power supply. Hey, did I mention we had been drinkin' the whole time we were makin' this thing?"

"No, but I assumed you were, because that's what all rednecks do when they're playing with explosives."

"HA!"

The sensation of a stud's hot breath on his neck, driving him wild, Greg grabbed the zip-up sweatshirt he had brought with him, and placed it on top of the thin blanket to help hide the evidence of his ever-growing arousal.

When Nick saw his buddy piling a sweatshirt on top of his crotch, he burst into a grin. "Comfy, G?"

"Yep." Greg frantically nodded. "Finish the story."

"Even after maxin' the power, nothin' happened, but after about a minute we heard this loud hum, and before we knew what hit us **BAM**, the whole freakin' volcano blew apart and Kevin and I were coated with red slime and plaster."

Cackling like the silly drunk he was, Greg said, "Being the scientific genius that I am, I totally saw that coming."

"Here's what I did see coming…literally." Nick stifled his laughter with his hand. "My folks had an outdoor shower by the pool, so I suggested we rinse off over there and then toss our clothes into the washer to get the red stains out."

"I saw a movie like that once." Greg started humming. "Bow chicka wow wow."

"It really was like one of those movies. The whole time we were showering, we were sneaking peeks at each other, trying not to get caught. But the part that threw me over the edge was after we rinsed off - our clothes were clinging to our bodies, so we literally had to peeeeel them off our wet skin. By the way, we were completely **wasted** by then."

"As wasted as we are right now?"

"No, probably a little less." Their eyes locked and their faces only inches apart, Nick continued in a husky whisper. "After we tossed our jeans, we looked at each other and couldn't help but notice bulges in the drenched briefs that were clinging to our pent up bodies."

_Nick Stokes is telling me a naughty bed time story while our thighs touch! _Greg hoped his buddy couldn't tell how hot he was getting.

"I thought for sure Kevin was gonna bolt, or call me a queer and blame me for his woody, or something like that, but…"

"What?" Greg waited with baited breath.

"Kevin just stood there, staring at my dripping wet body." Watching Greg squirm, Nick decided to intensify the visuals in his story, using the knowledge he had acquired while sneaking reads of the sex scenes in his sisters' romance novels. "I watched his eyes move from my slicked hair, to my parted lips, and then stopping at my pecs, which were glistening in the sunlight."

The phrasing reminded Greg of his mother's romance novels, which he used to sneak into the bathroom to use in lieu of real porn. "Mmm."

"I could feel the heat from his gaze as it seared over my rock hard abs, and then his eyes settled just below the waistband of my black Calvin Klein boxer briefs." In reality he had been wearing the bright white Fruit of the Looms his mommy had bought him for Christmas, but no respectable romance novel would have included that detail.

Wishing he had asked Chad for a water bottle, Greg stammered, "Wh…what happened after that?"

"He just stood there gaping at my package. That's when I realized he was turned on too."

Swallowing hard didn't prevent words from flying out of Greg's mouth. "As turned on as I am right now?"

"I don't know." Nick leaned in and murmured in his ear, "How turned on are you?" He purposely let his wet lips brush against his jittery pal's earlobe. "Hmm?"

His heart thumping in his chest, Greg worked up the nerve to stammer, "Uh…do you mean like…on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being the greatest?"

"No." Remembering how little experience his companion had, Nick smiled and provided some necessary instruction. "Honey, that was the perfect opportunity for you to reply with somethin' hot like…how about you slide your hand under this blanket and find out for yourself? Or you could've just slowly moved my hand there, looked me in the eyes, and said 'this turned on'."

"Okay, yeah, those seem like really obvious answers now that you've said them." Greg gulped down his embarrassing and pushed out a smile. "Thanks for the tip."

"Think of me as your coach for the big date you're gonna have in Pittsburgh."

"As long as it's a **gentle** education," Greg blurted, thinking of his buddy training nightmare with Dan.

"Absolutely." Nick winked and set up another opportunity. "Right there in the glorious Texas sunshine, without uttering a single word, I tossed my shorts and showed him everything I had to offer. It seemed like forever until Kevin did the same, but when he did, I knew something amazing was about to happen, because it was obvious we were totally hot for each other." He waited for Greg to give a properly enticing reply.

"You are going to tell me the rest of the story, right?"

"I was kinda hopin' to reenact the ending with you." After muffling his laugh, Nick explained, "I said 'we were hot for each other' and was waitin' on you to say 'As hot as I am for you right now?' which woulda been my cue to jump you. Or you coulda said 'As hot as we are for each other?' and I woulda replied, 'No, probably a little less' which woulda been your cue that I'm turned on too. "

"I can't believe I messed up again." Appealing to his friend's love of sports, the nervous geek said, "That's only two strikes. Pitch one more and I promise not to strike out."

Not taking any chances, Nick set up an easy yes or no situation. "Kevin wasn't sayin' anything, but I could tell he was gettin' needier by the minute. Finally I worked up the nerve to woo him with something extremely smooth like this, 'um…no one's around, so um…maybe we could um…get a little closer and I don't know – see how it feels and if it feels good we could …**not have sex**…and no kissing, because that would be weird, but um…maybe we could **just give each other a hand**? 'Cause I don't think there's anything wrong with two pent up pals helpin' each other out, as long as they **never** **blab** about it **to their lab rat friends**. Do you agree?"

"Yessssss."

"Hallelujah!" Nick bolted over his buddy's legs and into the aisle.

Once Greg was on his feet, he got stage fright and froze.

"Well…"

"Um…" Even though the offer to fool around was clearly made with no strings attached, it felt like a defining moment, one that would change everything.

Nick decided to entice his Kinney-obsessed friend by whispering a quote from one of Greg's favorite scenes. "So, are you coming or going? Or coming and then going?"

"You forgot to say 'coming and staying'," the smitten man anxiously replied. "That's his third option."

"That scene happened in Brian's loft, but we're at 30,000 feet, so 'staying' isn't an option, it's a requirement."

"Right." Greg silently debated asking what happens after they land back in reality.

To provide further motivation, he invoked Brian's pet name for Justin. "If you're not in there in two minutes, I start without you, Sunshine." Fueled by an overload of whisky and testosterone, Nick impatiently tapped his watch and then strutted away.

In that moment, Greg wondered what would have happened if Justin had chosen 'going' instead of 'coming and staying', but then he saw the object of his desire illuminated by a streak of light from the open lavatory door, and understood exactly why the boy made the choice that he had…common sense was no match for serious physical temptation. With his ideal guy right there, only ten feet away – waiting, willing, and wanting him, there was only one fathomable option.

* * *

_Picture this, Steve – two seconds after I shut the lavatory door, it swings open. In pops Greta, who immediately slams it closed, locks it, and then presses her back to the door. She was all panting and crazy-eyed, so I tease her – honey, who chased you here, an axe-murderer or a T-Rex? She answers 'No one, I was running away from a lethal combination of common sense and insecurity'. She was so frickin' adorable in that moment, that's when I knew I was doomed to fall head over heels. _

"It started on the **outbound flight**?" Grissom's anger was only tempered by the fact that Nick, while seemingly completely in control of his captor, was still in a potentially lethal situation. "You just told me nothing happened until the third night of the conference. You said..." He used air quotes. "Until the third night, after we were done presenting, we were completely responsible and professional."

Not in the mood to share any details, Greg replied, "Okay, fine, there were a few - we'll call them 'preceding events', one of which occurred on the outbound flight."

"So the whole trip was pleasure, not business, that means you both owe me for the plane fare and all eight days, not just the last five."

"But we did a great job on the presentation, that should be worth something."

"It was. You got paid for your shift, plus overtime for being gone, remember?"

"Fine. I'll reimburse you for the value of the entire trip, Griss." Recalling the time spent with Nick in the lavatory, Greg chuckled, "I'll write you a check for 'priceless'." When his boss shot him his classic 'I am not amused, Sanders' look, he quipped, "I wonder what I'd find if I probed into that conference you took Sara to in Des Moines a few years ago?"

"You would find that we were nothing but responsible and professional."

"Riiiiight."

"It's true." It was. Although Sara had boldly stood in the lobby and asked him if he wanted to come to dinner with her, he denied himself the pleasure and told her he planned on going back to his room and catching up on paperwork. It was just one of the many missed opportunities he was starting to regret.

_We were co-workers, who had to spend the next eight days at a conference together, so gettin' trashed and foolin' around on the outbound flight was a risky move. If it went badly, we'd have to deal with the awkwardness for a week, but to quote Joel Goodsen…_

_Who's he?_

_Are you serious? We're the same age, Steve, how could you not know who Joel Goodsen is?! He's Tom Cruise's character in Risky Business. _

_Shit! I knew the name sounded familiar. God, I loved that movie. _

_What boy didn't love that movie?_

_No kidding. _

_Do you remember the quote now, Steve-O? Say it with me… 'Sometimes you just gotta say - what the fuck. Make your move'._

"Nick loves that movie," Greg remarked, recalling the first time they watched it together. "He and his friends snuck into the theater to see it when they were thirteen, because his parents wouldn't let him see it. After it was over, he and his friends went out for ice cream and they were all talking about how the movie changed their lives forever. Then they all went to their houses to whack off and raid their piggy banks for money to buy cool sunglasses."

"I remember seeing posters for it, but I never saw it." Grissom doubted the reckless 'make your move' mantra would have sunken in, but after decades of never taking chances he felt compelled to at least rent the movie and live vicariously for a couple of hours.

_What was the __**hottest **__scene in that movie, Steve? _

_Love in motion. The train scene! _

_You know it! __**Every**__ red-blooded teenage boy in America wanted a seat on that train. _

Greg smiled at the comment. Nick had told him that after the movie when they were all at the ice cream shop, all his friends were talking about the train scene and visualizing themselves in Joel's seat, getting it on with Lana. That's when he knew something was seriously different about him, because he didn't want to **be** Joel, he wanted to be **with him**.

_Standing there in the airplane lavatory with Greta lookin' at me all revved up and ready, it hits me – this is __**just**__ like bein' on that train. The parallels were unbelievable. The light in the bathroom wasn't workin' properly, so it was either dim or flickering like a subway car. It was unpredictably bumpy in the rear of the plane, just like a jerking train. We were in a public place where there was a chance of gettin' caught…and because of who we were, hooking up was definitely __**not **__the right thing to do. _

_But sometimes you gotta say what the fuck. Make your move. _

_And I did, believe me. In seconds sparks were flyin' everywhere, along with our clothes, right down to our underwear, which I woulda yanked off her, but I could tell she was nervous and thought it might have been too much too fast._

Cringing next to Grissom, Greg prayed that Nick wouldn't delve into further detail. "Please stop talking."

_Come on, Nick. You can't leave your buddy hanging like that! Tell the rest of the story._

_Honestly, Steve, it's all a steamy blur from there, so let's talking about something else. _

"That was close," the embarrassed employee stated when he was breathing again.

Just like Nick was inside the house disarming his captor with levity, Grissom continued distracting the worried loved one outside the house with upbeat banter. "Of course it was, you were in a bathroom designed for one passenger."

"When the motivation is right, you can make anything work."

* * *

**December 6, 2002**

**Cruising Altitude: 30,000 feet and rising**

"C'mere." Nick sat down on the lid, and guided Greg to straddle his lap. "I swear I can hear that Tangerine Dream music from Risky Business in my head."

"That song's called Love on a Train." The initial bump of their equally roused bodies meeting through the strained fabric of their boxer briefs was almost too much for Greg to bear.

"And now it's time for some love on a plane." Nick grinned as his playmate's loud gasps filling the cramped space. "Mmm, right there." Grabbing the inexperienced man's hips, he set the pace. "Grab my shoulders." Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, and savored the tease.

Too overwhelmed to think of anything on his own, Greg was happy to follow directions. "Is that good?" He assumed the groans he was hearing meant yes. "Should I…" He was stunned when his words were cut off by Nick's mouth, covering his with a ravenous kiss.

"Sorry," Nick panted, when he realized what he had done. "I know when I was tellin' the story I said kissing would be weird, so you probably thought that meant we wouldn't…honestly I hadn't planned on it."

Tightening his grip on the muscular shoulders before him, Greg breathed out, "Maybe Kevin thought it was weird, but I don't." He leaned in to meet the lips that had just rocked his world. "I vote we add it to the 2002 remake, what about you?" He got confirmation when his mouth was aggressively invaded again.

Nick knew what was supposed to be a meaningless physical release of tension between two friends, was spiraling into unwanted territory, but he felt powerless to stop it. He blamed their chemistry on the booze, the risqué location, his intimate knowledge of Greg's inexperience, the thrill of breaking the department's dating policy on Grissom's dime, and anything but the truth.

"I'm getting really worked up." It was all so perfectly hot and totally surreal…his co-worker's hands frantically gripping his hair and his body…his skilled tongue retreating and then immediately returning hungry for more…and the undeniable passion building between them faster than the jetliner carrying them "Wait!" The sensation of his briefs moving off his hips had thrust him into a panic. "Uh…are we changing our minds about anything else in the fantasy?"

Seeing the alarm in his friend's eyes, Nick quickly replied, "No, even if I wanted to, which I really, really do," he laughed, "I couldn't because I wouldn't want an airplane bathroom to be your first time, and to be slightly more honest…" He laughed again. "I don't have the necessary supplies. So, this is as far as it goes." While their eyes were still locked, he finished dipping the band of Greg's briefs just low enough to free him, and then did the same for himself.

"What should I…"

"You just relax and let me handle everything."

As soon as his mentor wrapped a strong hand around the most sensitive inches of his body, Greg knew relaxing wasn't a possibility, and when he felt the sensation of those sensitive inches being pressed against Nick's, he clamped his eyes shut and fought hard not to lose it within the first ten seconds.

"That was like twenty seconds." Nick chuckled. "Wow. I'm totally flattered."

Still dizzy and gasping, the grateful friend apologized for his pathetic lack of control, "Sorry. I…"

"It's okay." Nick slowly slid Greg's hand exactly where it needed to be. "Everything's still good, Sunshine." Truthfully it was all too good. So good that before he even finished, he was already thinking about the next time and the time after that. Just like Brian Kinney was that first night…though he'd never admit it either.

* * *

**AN: **

What goes up, must come down : ) The boys land in Pittsburgh in the next chapter.

Reminder - because the story has an M rating now, new chapters won't appear in 'Just In' like it used to, you have to look under CSI stories and select updated chapters Rated M. Or you can sign up to receive notifications using the story alert feature. Some readers wondered how they had missed two chapters had been posted, so I wanted to point that out.

Thanks for reading that the feedback on the story!

It will probably be a few days before I can get the next chapter up, so I made this one extra long : D and hopefully enjoyable.

Thanks!

Maggs


	9. Chapter 9

**Bleeding Love – Part 9**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

**December 6, 2002**

**Cruising Altitude: A thousand feet above Cloud 9 **

When Chad saw the cute blonde returning to his seat looking like the cat that ate the canary, he strolled down the aisle to congratulate him. "Way to go, buckaroo." He handed over a small certificate. "That's for your scrapbook."

Seeing 'Official Mile High Club Member' in red ink, Greg pretended he had earned the status instead of getting off on a technicality. "Thanks, I'm going to hang this on my fridge when I get home."

"I was bored, so I made you a congratulations gift bag too." The Flight Attendant proudly presented an airsickness bag stuffed with snacks and one more round of whisky. "I also figured you'd be thirsty after working up a sweat, so I put some bottled water in your seat pockets."

"Cool! Thanks!" Greg grabbed a pack of peanuts. "I'm starving."

"Uh oh, the sisters are looking for me." Chad pointed to the two nuns stretching in the aisle. "Or maybe you pinged their sin detectors and their looking to damn you and the cowboy to hell."

"I didn't know there were nuns on the plane."

"I love having nuns on my flights; it makes the passengers believe the plane won't crash and keeps them chilled."

Still thinking about what might have been, Greg whispered. "But I could have been busted by nuns."

"Yeah, too bad I didn't think to tell you sooner, it would have upped the taboo factor and made things even hotter." The flight attendant winked. "I'm going to help my sisters and then I'm taking a fifteen minute break. Enjoy the snacks, stud."

Greg cringed, feeling completely unworthy of the title. Losing control after twenty seconds of contact wasn't studly, it was juvenile, and he wondered if Nick would be able to look him in the eyes without laughing.

"Miss me?"

When Greg looked up and saw his buddy's familiar smile, he felt a twinge of optimism. "Yeah. You were gone so long I thought maybe you were parachuting out the back door to avoid me."

Grinning, the contented cowboy dropped into his window seat. "No, I was just back there makin' sure we didn't leave any evidence behind."

"In case the plane unexpectedly becomes a crime scene?"

"Hey, it happens, I've had to process four planes."

Greg burst into a grin. "Trust me, I couldn't take my eyes off the action and can confidently say that unless they swab your six pack, they won't find a trace."

"Okay, stop talkin' about it, or I'll be draggin' you back there for round two." Sliding to meet his mile high accomplice in the middle, Nick teased, "How long has it been since you spanked it, Speedy? Because it seemed like you were reeeeally locked and loaded."

Blushing, Greg averted his eyes. "I don't know. Like four days, maybe a week."

"Seriously?"

The lonely misfit half-joked, "To keep things fresh, my hand and I like to take a break from each other every now and then."

"See, I can't go that long. I get too tense."

"More tense than you usually are? Is that even possible?" Greg chuckled, "I guess I'll find that out first hand since we're sharing a room while you're under presentation pressure."

"First hand, huh?" Nick jumped at the offer. "Okay, if you insist, you can be my right hand man whenever I get too tense at the conference."

"Grissom told me when he comes to these things with you, you're tense 24/7."

"Yeah, 'cause he's not my type."

"HA!"

Patting his friend's thigh, he said, "But you and I can agree to be wank buddies, no strings attached. Honestly, it will be good for you not to be pent up when you go lookin' for your fantasy man. You'll be a lot less desperate, so won't lower your standards in the first ten minutes at the bar."

"And here I thought things might be awkward between us and you wouldn't want to look at me."

"Nah," Nick belly laughed, "the awkwardness won't hit us until we're sober. That's when we'll freak, agree to forget all this every happened, and avoid looking at each other as much as possible."

"Oh." Trying to delay their return to sobriety, Greg held up two whisky bottles. "Chad gave us a gift bag."

"Mmm." Nick twisted open the bottle and raised it. "Congrats on your mile high achievement, G."

"Technically I'm really not…"

"There's always the return flight," Nick teased before tapping his whisky to Greg's and downing it. "Good thing I brought B6 and aspirin, 'cause we're gonna be hung later." After wiping his lips, he pawed at the airsickness bag. "What else is in there? I'm starving."

After gulping the contents of his bottle, Greg started pulling out the items. "Pretzels, peanuts, cheese and crackers, Lorna Doone cookies and…what's this?" He grabbed the piece of paper sitting at the bottom of the bag. "Chad's cell phone number on a note that says he has a layover in Pittsburgh on Monday." He chuckled, "It also says 'meet me at Sparx at eleven, boys. You owe me three drinks, but I'm open to alternative suggestions if your relationship is." Glancing over he quizzically said, "**Relationship**…he thinks we're a couple?"

"I guess so." Nick snatched the paper and stuffed it in his jeans. "At least we know which club to go to when we're lookin' for your Mr. Right. As hot as he is, trust me, Chad doesn't slum it." He winked. "Maybe I'll hook up with him after you leave me to run off with Brian Kinney."

"I wouldn't." Greg lunged for a water bottle and twisted it open.

"Wouldn't what?" Watching his buddy chug the cool liquid, Nick became aware of his own thirst. "Can I have a sip of your water?"

"Anytime." Smiling he handed it over. "Because what's a little fluid exchange between wank buddies, right?"

After almost choking on his sip, Nick said, "Hey, before I sober up and freak out about all this, I just want to say…I'm havin' the best time in a long time, and I'm not just talkin' about the fireworks in the bathroom."

"Me too," Greg quietly answered while trying to fish peanuts out of their tiny bag. "I'm never going to be able to use a bathroom without thinking about you."

"That's really sweet, G…and pretty gross."

"Yeah, I realized that at soon as I said it, but it's true." Feeling the heat of Nick's gaze, he stammered, "I…okay…since you've been opening up and telling me personal things all night, I'll be honest with you…that was **by far** the most intense thing I've done with anyone ever." His nerves getting to him, Greg retreated to humor and overtalking. "Which is really pretty amazing considering I paid like a thousand bucks to party with a girl at the Bunny Ranch on the eve of my 23rd birthday. I know, I know, pathetic, but I had this deadline of 23 in my head, and I wasn't having any luck finding the right person so I decided to go the legal professional route, and since there aren't any legal male professionals, I ended up at the Ranch with Amber, who was really nice and **definitely** knowledgeable, but going around the world with her was nothing compared to being in that bathroom with you. With you everything was a hundred times hotter, which is funny considering Amber and I were naked, but you and I kept our underwear on, or mostly on. So, um…thanks for helping me figure out my place on the Kinsey Scale, and I want to let you know, that I normally wear better underwear, these are just really broken in and comfortable for flying long distances." Realizing he sounded like a blabbering idiot, he tossed a handful of nuts in his mouth to keep him from talking.

Too overwhelmed to react to anything else, Nick asked, "How are the peanuts?"

After swallowing, Greg anxiously replied, "Good Want a taste?" With a shaky hand, he offered the bag.

"Yeah." Wrapping his fingers around the back of his friend's neck, he pulled him close, and initiated a series of tantalizingly slow kisses, each one deeper and longer than the last.

"Whoa," the love struck drunk blurted, "I felt those down to my toes, Tex. I've never been kissed like that before."

"You mean Thousand Dollar Amber didn't make your toes curl when she smooched ya?"

"No, but in all fairness to her, that wasn't listed on the menu as part of the package."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Nick heatedly whispered before consuming his friend's mouth again.

It wasn't just the public locale that made the normally private man's decision to kiss his friend so uncharacteristic, it was the kissing itself. Ever since suffering through the devastating consequences of loving a man, he had imposed a strict policy against intimacy with guys. He still kissed women on dates, because it was a necessary part of the ruse to prop his image, and because he knew it wouldn't lead to love and ultimately heartache. But since the policy went into effect, he only sought physical gratification from guys who weren't interested in anything more than dropping to their knees or facing the wall. He never brought anyone home. He never gave out his phone number. He never stuck around for anything more than a shower. He never let himself feel anything, but the release of physical tension…and he was always in control. Then Nigel Crane stalked and attacked him, and suddenly spending time with strangers, male or female, lost its appeal.

"G..."

"Please don't stop. It feels…"

"So good." Nick couldn't refrain long enough to complete a sentence. "We shouldn't…not here…I don't do PDAs."

"Just one more round," Greg pleaded, fearing that once they landed, his buddy would have a change of heart and cut him off from affection. "Please."

Nick responded by ignoring his better judgment and throwing everything he was feeling into a soul-reaching kiss.

* * *

_Steve, it was __**that kiss**__ that sealed the deal. Yeah…after that kiss I knew Greta was someone I needed in my life. Not that I told her that until almost two years later. _

_Two years? _

_Yeah, but when I did, I found out she already knew…she had known since that outbound flight. Which meant she knew I was lyin' every time I had shown up on her door during those two years saying 'This doesn't mean we're together, I just don't feel like going home today because…' I would fill in that blank with a stressful case or some other bullshit reason, but the truth was I just needed her. _

_That must have been one hell of a kiss. _

_It was. _

"Wow," Grissom found another opportunity to keep the mood light. "I thought Nick had a strict 'no PDA' rule? At least that's what you told me when I accused you of fooling around in a Denali. But what's one more lie to the boss, right?"

"Nick does have a no PDAs in public rule, and for the last time, we weren't fooling around in the Denali that day, we really were just grabbing twenty minutes of sleep while pulling a double. That was over a year ago and Catherine vouched for us. I can't believe you're still suspicious."

"Like Catherine didn't owe Nick a cover up story, or twelve, after he'd been watching her mix business with pleasure for years?"

"Trust me, I've tried to get Mr. Responsibility to take a five minute break and fool around on the job like everyone else, but I struck out every time, because he was adamant that we'd get busted." Shaking his head, Greg explained, "Not that I can blame him for being paranoid. 99 percent of the time, Nick follows his enormous list of self-imposed personal accountability rules, but he's that unlucky overly responsible guy who pays the price that one percent of the time he stops worrying and overanalyzing everything just long enough to venture out of his safety zone While truly bad people can do bad things and get away with them 99 percent of the time."

"I vaguely remember him telling me something similar during the Kristy Hopkins case."

"Yeah, that's a perfect example. How many guys break the law and pay to sleep with prostitutes every night in this town and no one finds out about their illegal activity, but Nick falls into bed with one for free and in a matter of hours, the girl ends up dead and the entire department thinks Nick pays for sex and is a murderer? And what about when 'Mr. Be Frugal and Save Your Money' decided after **months** of deliberating that he should spend some of his hard earned cash on the deluxe sports package? His cable guy ends up stalking him. And I'm sure he won't be telling Steve the real reason that kiss was significant, but that's another great example."

Grissom's eyebows rose with his curiosity. "What can **possibly** be more embarrassing than what I've already heard?"

Moving closer, Greg whispered, "That kiss was the first time Nick let his guard down and got romantic with a guy in a public place. Care to guess what happened?"

The scientist blurted the first thing that popped into his mind, "While the two of you were attached at the mouth, the plane flew into a downward wind current, which caused a sudden and significant drop in altitude that resulted in you reflexively biting through Nick's tongue?"

"A very logical answer, and one to be expected from a brainiac, but that didn't happen. Although I'm sure Nick would have preferred your scenario if given a choice."

* * *

**December 6, 2002**

**Cruising Altitude: Just south of Heaven **

When 58 year old Sister Mary Margaret noticed the sign was gone that indicated the rear lavatory was closed for cleaning, she grabbed her Reader's Digest and decided to take a stroll for some privacy. Even the extra fiber in her cereal wasn't helping expedite matters these days, and she didn't want to inconvenience anyone by occupying the more centrally located bathrooms for an inordinate amount of time, or making people deal with a foul odor in a confined space. After all, it was a public place, and she couldn't selfishly engage in any behavior that might offend someone. "OH!"

The sound of a woman's voice startled the romantically preoccupied men and when they opened their eyes to see the source of the sound, they both gasped at the sight of a tiny shocked nun clutching a Reader's Digest.

"I'm fine!" Mary Margaret yelled back to her travel mate who had heard her shriek. "I thought I was slipping. There's no reason to come back here."

Nick used the distraction to slide as far away from Greg as possible and grab the blanket he had been using earlier. Pulling it up to his neck, he stared out the window and tried to will the woman away.

When the nun turned her attention back to the men, she whispered, "Sister Agnes isn't as compassionate as I am when it comes to your situation."

"Situation?" Greg parroted, while dividing his attention between observing Nick's strange behavior and not being rude to the lady who chose not to make a huge scene over two guys passionately kissing in a public aircraft.

"Young man, I'm sure you've been preached to and shouted at in your years, so let me make this clear, what I am about to say is not about judgment, it's about love…my love for a fellow lost soul and it's rooted in empathy." Mary Margaret, a firm believer in divine intervention, compassionately smiled at the boy. "There are no accidents. We've met for a reason. Let me be a friend and help you, as someone once helped me. What's your name?"

"Uh…Greg." His blood alcohol level still rising from the whisky he had just gulped, it was hard to believe the surreal situation was actually happening.

"I'm Sister Mary Margaret. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He anxiously shook her hand. "Hello." Considering the man who had just been rocking his world was now mute and under a blanket in fetal position, and a tiny cherub-faced nun was trying to befriend him at 30,000 feet, he quickly came to the conclusion he might actually be dreaming everything. _Ugh! I should have known the bathroom and the kissing weren't real, nothing that exciting ever happens to me! That also explains the creepy almost empty plane and the hot flight attendant calling me a stud. _

Sensing the young man was conflicted, the sister reached out. "I was in the your situation once - feeling as though I had no choice but to act on the desires that plagued me, believing that I was born differently and therefore predestined to live an unnatural life apart from my family and God. It is simply not true. I am living proof that urges can be suppressed and permanently denied."

"You mean like celibacy? Forever?" Greg shivered at the thought. "That has to be torture, because I was really sick of it after only 23 years."

"A celibate life isn't a tragedy; it's an **opportunity **to redirect your energy away from sin and toward meaningful and fulfilling work."

"I really want to be a CSI!" Greg blurted like a kid on a career day. "That's meaningful work and very fulfilling, much better than being a Lab Rat trapped in a glass cage. CSIs actually get to solve murders and give the victims' families closure. My buddy under the blanket is a CSI III. We're going to a Forensics conference together. I'm just a DNA Tech who was brought along to present a few technical things, but Nick is the star. He's the person who inspired me to want to be a CSI. Wait…" Greg whispered to the nun, "You can see him, right? Or is this really a dream?"

"Let's not worry about your co-worker and just focus on you, dear." A dedicated servant to those in need, Sister Mary Margaret loved the young man's career choice. "Helping those who can not help themselves is one of the most important calls we are challenged to answer in this lifetime. So you are already on a righteous path, now all you have to do is stop engaging in sinful acts."

"Honestly, I've barely engaged in anything."

"That's wonderful news, Greg, because the less time you've spent feeding your addiction, the less time required to break it."

"Addiction?" The song Addicted to Love popped into his head and he sang along for a minute.

"Like with any addiction, the first steps are to admit you have a problem and then put distance between yourself and what tempts you. Just like an alcoholic can't kick the habit in a bar, you won't be able to change your ways if you keep sitting with sexually aggressive men on dark airplanes."

Nick gripped his blanket tighter and fought to silence the voices in his head. _Wade was controlling you, Nick. He observed you while you were working in the campus bookstore together and he only befriended you because he sensed you were vulnerable and knew he could exploit you. He's a sexually aggressive deviant and he doesn't love you…but your father does. No matter how strict he's been with you, no matter how much time he spends at his office, he loves you. Everything you're feeling for Wade or other males…it all stems from you not believing your father loves you. Because you didn't get the time you needed with him, you're subconsciously looking to all the wrong places to fill that void. _

Finally tuning out the song in his head, Greg refocused on the nun. "Uh…what?"

"I won't lie, it's not easy at first, but all you need to understand right now is that it's possible. Are you from Vegas? I run a gay and lesbian support group at Saint Cecelia's Annex every Tuesday and Friday. The rest of the time you'll find me in the food bank or the soup kitchen."

Finally Greg heard something he could relate to. "Growing up, I worked with my mom stocking shelves in the food pantry at our church, and once a month we'd volunteer together at the soup kitchen. It was scary at first, but I really liked it after a while. I could tell we were helping people."

"Wonderful. Family support is so important in the beginning, because it's a serious leap of faith to believe that the joy of grace can surpass carnal pleasures, but if you can find the courage inside you to make that leap, you'll learn what I'm saying is true. Being a homosexual isn't a sin, just the lifestyle behaviors are. There are many of us within the church community living a chaste life and we'll be there to support you every step of the way."

"With all due respect, and I mean that, I respect you," Greg chuckled, "because you're a nun who walks the walk, not a fundie hypocrite lecturing me on morality and compassion before stepping over homeless people in the street on your way to a secret sex club…that really happened by the way."

"My favorite is the old windbag who speaks out on the evils of booze and gambling in Vegas, then drives to Reno to play cards, get drunk, and cheat on his wife."

"While their wife is back in Vegas at the secret sex club spending the clueless husband's cash."

"But it all works out when they reunite on Sunday in the front row of the mega church where they make sure everyone sees them hold hands and drop an envelope in the collection basket."

"Exactly!" Greg chuckled again. "That's my** fundamental** problem in a nutshell."

"Mine too, but you do realize they're not all like that. It just seems that way because the hypocrites are the loud mouths with nothing but time on their hands, while the ones truly following the Word go unnoticed because they're too busy actually doing the Lord's work to seek attention."

"Do you know who said, "You must be the change you seek in the world?"

"Gandhi."

Greg smiled and said, "Okay, we agree that hypocrites are annoying and there needs to be more compassion in the world, but not the other stuff. Sorry. I believe I was put on this Earth to live and love, not exist and suffer, so I'm gonna pass on your support group, but if you need any volunteers in the soup kitchen, I'll sign up for some shifts."

"We can always use an extra pair of hands, Greg. We serve lunch every day between eleven and one and dinner at five on Sundays." Having faith that a seed was firmly planted in the young man's mind, Mary Margaret peacefully smiled. "I hope to see you there. I'm going to Pittsburgh to speak at a conference on urban poverty, but I'll be back in Vegas on Thursday. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the restroom."

"Have fun." He covered his mouth with his hand. "I didn't mean…I know that's a Reader's Digest and not a…what I meant to say was…it was nice meeting you."

Suddenly concerned how it would look if she remained in the lavatory for twenty minutes, she smiled and pointed toward the other bathrooms. "Actually, I think I'll use the one up there."

As soon as the nun was gone, Greg slid to towards the window. "What's going on?" When he touched his friend's arm, he could tell he was shaking. "Talk to me."

His eyes fixed on the dark window, Nick shook his head.

"I just realized you've been telling me stuff for hours, but you've never answered my original question." In a gentle whisper, he prodded, "Why did you have a panic attack in the cab? You said you would tell me if I promised to take it to the grave and I did." He gave his buddy's arm a supportive squeeze. "Tell me."

"I…" The words caught in his throat.

"Okay, then I'll try and piece together the clues myself." Greg took a shot. "Two religious older women trying to convince you you're going to hell if you're actively gay. Do they remind you of your mother and make you feel guilty? Or make you think your mom wouldn't love you if she knew the truth?" In his whisky haze, he remembered some of Nick's earlier words '_If I tell you this, you gotta take it to the grave, understand? And I'd know it was you who blabbed if you did, because only two people in this world know what happened and one is dead and other one hasn't said a word about it in since it all went down_.' "Wait…you said something went down and only two people know…you didn't accidentally kill a religious woman or…"

"No." Nick sucked in some oxygen through his nostrils, released it, and then faced his friend and his fears. "I…You know how I told you no one in my family ever figured out my secret? That's not true."

Seeing the agony in his friend's eyes, Greg reached out for his hand. "Your mom?"

"My father." He pulled in a jagged breath. "My sophomore year at A&M."

"He's known you're gay for almost ten years and…"

"No." Tears pooling in his eyes, Nick shook his head. "He thinks I was fixed."

"Fixed?" The word didn't sit right.

"This is really hard," the troubled man confessed.

"Tell me." Greg clutched the trembling hand he was holding. "You can trust me. I swear on my mother's life. I would never say or do anything to hurt you. Just let it out, whatever it is…I'm staying right here."

"I was so happy." The first tear of many streaming down his cheek, Nick whispered, "If I could go back, I would've stood up to him. I wish I would've been brave enough to use the words you said in the cab, or to that nun…but I wasn't confident like you, I terrified. He was gonna tell everyone. He was gonna take everything I had ever known away from me if I didn't…"

"Didn't what?" Greg kept waiting for a murder confession to pop up somewhere. "What did he do? What happened? Who's dead?"

After keeping the pain buried for nine years, Nick decided to unearth his painful past. "I met him when I started my co-op job at bookstore…"

* * *

**ANs:**

The chapter was already at 4500 words, and it's a long and scary story, soooo…next chapter.

Lots of backstory tidbits in this one and future setup. I said the boys would get off the plane in this chapter. They weren't ready : D

Thanks for the reviews on chapter 8, I appreciate it! Especially because it was an extra long one, so it's good to know it flowed.

Thanks for reading!

Maggs


	10. Chapter 10

**Bleeding Love – Part 10**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

**College Station, Texas **

**January 1992**

Happy to have a job now that football season was over, Nick hurried to the off-campus bookstore, to claim the position he had received through student services. After knocking on the front door, he saw a ponytailed girl walking by. "I was told to come here at closin' time to pick up some paperwork."

After being let inside, he proceeded as directed to the Customer Service desk where he saw a guy facing the wall, trying to fix a shelf. "Howdy."

Wade Tomlin, a senior at A&M and the assistant manager of the bookstore, stopped what he was doing to turn around and return the greeting with a customary smile. "Howdy."

"Uh....I'm Nick." Expecting a bookstore nerd, he was thrown by the guy's Hollywood smile and rugged cowboy appearance. "Stokes." He extended his hand.

"Wade Tomlin, Assistant Manager." He returned the handshake and gave the guy wearing an Aggie football sweatshirt a stealthy but thorough scan

"I'm supposed to start workin' here tomorrow, but I was told to stop by today and pick up some stuff I had to read and sign." Tall and lean, with tousled dirty-blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, and broad shoulders, he was everything Nick wanted in a man but couldn't have…since he was desperately trying to be exclusively heterosexual and fit in with the other guys on the team."

Wade lounged against the back counter. "Let me guess." He loved to pester jocks. "Football season's over and you want to make little cash so you can buy beer and take your girl out on Saturday night."

"Yeah," Nick laughed, relieved that he was giving off a strong hetero vibe even though he couldn't peel his eyes off the roguishly posed cowboy.

"And you didn't want a food services job, because you were afraid you'd pack on the post-season pounds."

"That and I hate how the smell of the fryer grease sticks with ya even after a shower." Nick grinned and fortified his stance as a womanizing red-blooded American male who loved babes, booze, and playin' ball. "It turns off the ladies and cuts into my action."

"Right," Wade groaned. "Okay, Stokes." As he had done many times over the years that he had worked at the store, he grabbed a new employee information packet and plopped it down on the counter.

"Are you a freshman?"

"Yeah."

"What's your major?"

"Chemistry."

"Really?" The guy didn't look like a lab rat. "Okay, since you're a science major, I have to ask - what was the last** fiction** book you read that wasn't for a class?"

"There's an interview? But I was told I had the job." He had already called his father to report he would be working in a bookstore, so the last thing he wanted to do was have to call home and change his story.

"You only have to answer that question and complete the forms."

"Oh. Okay." Nick relaxed. "Last fiction book I read that wasn't for a class? Why do you…"

"We don't only sell textbooks and Aggie gear here, we're a full service bookstore so it's important that our employees are well read."

"Right. Yeah. That makes sense." Regretting he passed over the job at Bubba's Burger Barn, Nick anxiously shifted in place and tried to think of a book he had read in high school that wouldn't sound like a book he had to read. "I thought I was gonna work in the back, unloadin' boxes and stockin' shelves and stuff, not givin' people my thoughts on books."

"A customer could talk to you when you're stockin' shelves, right?" Anticipating it would be a while, Wade took a seat. "Store's closed, so I've got time…and inventory reports to read."

Too distracted by the sight of the outrageously sexy cowboy leaning back in his chair with his worn boots up on the desk, Nick faced the other way and searched his memory. "Tom Sawyer!" He finally exclaimed. "I read it with grandpa every night for a week. It's a great book!"

"How old were you?"

"I dunno know. Ten?"

Shaking his head, Wade rose from his chair. "Sorry, I don't think this is gonna work out."

"I can read!" Nick fought to save his job and avoid calling his dad to say he got fired before he even started. "I've just haven't had a lot of free time! I was always goin' to school, workin' a job, playin' ball, or doin' chores. I was the only kid left at home, so I had to do a heck of a lot of chores. C'mon…just gimme a chance. Please?"

Keeping a straight face, Wade continued his new employee hazing ritual. "Well, we have let employees prove their ability to comprehend and discuss literature by readin' a book, but you'd have to read it tonight and be ready to discuss it with the manager before your shift tomorrow."

"Great! Gimme a book!"

"Pick one out and buy it."

"I can't, I'm broke. I wasn't allowed to have a job during the season."

"I don't remember seein' you on Kyle field."

"I only got to play for four minutes during the SMU game…when we were up by 35." Unlike high school where he was a star under the Friday night lights, at A&M, he was barely hanging onto his place on the team. If it weren't for his brother's record and his family being alum for generations, he probably would have been shown the door. "It's only my first year. I'm gonna work on my speed from now until practice starts up, and I'm sure I'll see more time on the field next year."

"Okay, okay, I feel like I'm kickin' a puppy, so...." Wade selected from the stack he had under his desk. "Here." He tried not to laugh. "You can borrow this one from the store."

Staring at the cover of Little Women, Nick grumbled, "Do I have to read a book about tiny chicks?"

"Only if you want the job, Sport."

Nick tucked the book under his jacket so no one would see it and assume he was queer. "See you tomorrow!"

* * *

**December 9, 2002 **

"There really was no reading requirement." A bittersweet smile edged over Nick's lips. "When I showed up the next afternoon, he couldn't believe I actually read the book cover to cover and had **six pages** of notes, because most people just browsed the Cliff notes and hoped that was enough. That's when I broke down and told him that I was scared of losin' the job, because then I'd have to call my dad. The Judge's rule was that all Stokes kids worked during college except during sports season. I was expected to be working on day one of the Spring semester and he had already called askin' where I'd be workin'. He felt really bad for hazing me and promised he'd make it up to me by giving me whatever hours I needed, and helping me get an A in my Eng Lit class with Professor Hastings, who he warned me was hard ass who hated jocks."

"Did he follow through? Greg impatiently asked, wanting to know every detail as soon as possible.

"Yeah, I was practically workin' full time and he helped me score an A on my first paper with Hastings. By the end of the month, we were good friends and I was crushin' on him big time, but I thought he was straight and I was tryin' really hard not to be attracted to guys, so I wasn't gonna say anything."

"But at some point…"

"Yeah." Nick gushed a smile. "Wade was a Recreation, Parks, and Tourism major with a minor in Lit. I thought was an odd combination, but he told me his favorite thing to do as a kid was to hang out in the forest and read in the peace and quiet. He had plenty of opportunity, because his dad was a park ranger at Angelina – that's East Texas, close to Louisiana. That's what he wanted to do too…work for the National Park Service. Anyway, at the beginning of April, he told me he'd be gone for four days workin' on his senior project in the Davy Crockett National Forest and then stoppin' to see his mom in Lufkin. His dad has passed on when he was in high school. By April my crush was completely outta control, and I couldn't imagine not seein' him for four days when I was used to seein' him every day."

"He was clueless about the crush?"

"So I thought," Nick gently laughed. "He asked if I liked to go camping, and I was like hell, yeah, I grew up campin'! I'm an Eagle Scout! I love campin'! He casually said we could probably find someone to cover my hours if I wanted to come along, that he had plenty of gear if I didn't have a tent or a sleeping bag. It took me two seconds to say **yes** and yell across the store 'Hey, Marcie! You want my hours for this week?' and then I rushed out of there to pack a bag even though we wouldn't be leavin' until the next morning."

"Going camping with your crush," Greg smiled, "Probably not a smart idea if your crush is straight."

"At that point, I didn't care if I ever touched him, I just loved bein' with him, because he was calm, and smart, and he didn't give a shit about frat life or football. He was fun and relaxing to be around. A needed breath of fresh air in my stressed to the max lifestyle." Nick smiled at his buddy. "Kinda like you,Greggo."

The insecure geek was thrilled to hear the compliment and the comparison.

"We left the next morning at sunrise, and after not leavin' campus for months, it felt great just to get out of town. Then, when we got to Davy Crockett, he showed me the map of his project area and told me we'd have to leave his jeep behind and hike in four miles."

"Totally alone in the forest with your crush."

"Yeah, I couldn't have been more pleased about that," Nick chuckled, recalling his happiness. "After hikin' in, we tossed our packs, and grabbed some water. It was a beautiful spot – teeming with big pines and it was a perfectly clear day. I was lookin' up and sayin' how great the location was when I felt Wade step behind me and rest his hands on my shoulders. That one touch sent a jolt though my entire body, and without even thinkin' about it, I rested my back against his chest, and soon as I did, he wrapped his arms around me. We just stood there like that for five minutes – both facin' the same view of the forest and not sayin' a word. Then finally he whispered in my ear, 'I've wanted to give you a hug since the first day we met, only then it was because I felt sorry for you, but now it's because I'm crazy about you. I wasn't sure you felt the same way, but then I saw your reaction to my camping offer, and I figured that crazy sprint you did to pack your bags had to mean something'."

"That had to blow your mind."

"Lookin' back, I'm surprised I didn't faint." Nick joyously told the next part. "I couldn't get any words to come out of my mouth, so I turned around to face him. The next thing I knew we were kissing and I felt like I won the lottery." He chuckled, "Then I geeked out and panicked, because the last time I thought I was lucky, I ended up bein' Dan's bed slave for hours. Now here I am alone in the woods with a guy who is carryin' a freakin' shot gun."

"Doh."

"Because I was having a panic attack in the middle of the forest, Wade wanted to know what was wrong. I give him the short version of my nasty first time story, and like you…he was horrified to hear what happened. Then he assured me he didn't bring me out to the woods to role-play Deliverance, that he would be content if we just sat by the campfire in each other's arms."

"So, you decided to trust him?" Greg hoped so, because he wanted more details of love in the great outdoors.

"He had always been a man of his word, right from when he promised me more hours and an A on my paper. The trust, like our friendship, was already there. Once I calmed down, I realized that."

"It's good to be friends first." The younger man with a serious crush hoped it didn't sound like he was talking about his own hopes for the future.

"Definitely. That night, after cozying up by the campfire for a while, I said I wanted to pretend Dan never happened and have a new first time. Without another word, he took my hand, kissed it, and took me into to the tent to replace the horrible memory with an amazing one. By the end of the four days my crush had turned to love. I didn't want to leave the woods and get back to reality."

"How did you make it work at school?"

"We had two months of sneakin' everything, but with Wade's family's connections, we got summer jobs together with the Park Service, and got to share a trailer, that was heaven, but when summer was over, it wasn't easy, and it was very frustrating, especially once football season started up again. The worst part was when I had to be one of the boys. We had this huge win one weekend and I had the game of my life. There was a wild party and since I had caught my first TD, the guys wanted to reward me. When you have no steady girlfriend or fiancée, and some slut slams you into the wall and drops to her knees in a room with your brothers cheering you on, you're not gonna say 'sorry, but I don't want to cheat on my boyfriend'."

Trying to be helpful a decade later, Greg suggested, "You could have said you had herpes."

"And have that get back to my folks?" Nick shook his head. "Wade knew there were going to be a few times where'd I have no choice. I had to go along with queer jokes too, that was fun. At least with Wade starting Grad School, he got his own apartment, so we had a safe place to be alone. The guys knew I worked with him at the bookstore and absolutely believed he was my tutor, because they were all scared to death of my father and had no trouble buying that the Judge demanded straight A's if I was gonna stay on the team."

"So, your grades were better with Wade, but what about your gridiron scores?"

"I had a phenomenal season." Content to stay lost in the positive memories, Nick grinned. "All the guys thought I played better because I wasn't stressin' about my grades and my dad pullin' me from the team. Wade and I used to laugh in bed and say if they only knew what really caused the improvement. Besides all the canoeing, hiking, and climbing over the summer helpin' my stamina," he laughed, "my leg flexibility improved from having my ankles on Wade's shoulders all the time. Some players did yoga and ballet in private…"

"He always topped?" Greg blurted, finding it hard to believe a control freak like Nick would like the arrangement. "Sorry, that's kinda personal, although we have gotten pretty close during the flight, so maybe it's not. Is it? I don't think it is."

"It wasn't like he was like a power hog who wouldn't let me, we switched things up every now and then, but…" Nick shook his head. "I can't talk about this."

Hoping the whisky would still make Nick uninhibited, Greg pleaded, "Come on, except for what I've learned from Queer as Folk, I have no idea how gay relationships really work and those guys are all dysfunctional anyway."

"Well, I've only had one relationship, so I can't really say what's normal, but for us…the reason I loved bein' with Wade from day one was that I could let my guard down around him. Unlike every member of my family, every teammate, every fraternity brother, I didn't feel like I was in competition with him. I didn't have to be overachieving and over stressed around him. He'd tell me I was workin' too hard and force me to stop straightening book shelves and read at the counter. I thought that was slacking and couldn't do it, but then he told it was good for business for girls to come in and see a jock reading."

"Because if they saw a football player could read literature, they'd know anyone could."

"That's exactly what he said!" Nick laughed. "See…that's just it, he made me laugh, and never demanded anything from me. He was the only person I could totally relax around, so when it came to our love life, I wanted it to stay that way. It was my shred of time where I could completely let go and not feel responsible for anything." Chuckling, he added, "Plus bottoming and a hot shower was the quickest way to stretch my legs out after a long football practice."

"How long did you guys stay together like that?"

"Usually about thirty minutes start to finish, unless one of us had a lot of homework."

"I meant in the relationship."

"Oh." Sad to have to move on to the unhappy ending, Nick sighed, "Eleven perfect months. Yeah, one minute life was perfect and then…" After hesitating for a moment, he decided to continue. "I didn't have a car at school. That was another Stokes rule – no car on campus until you maintained at least a 3.5 for four semesters. My parents were throwin' this big shindig, a fundraiser for a congressman, so I had to go home for Spring Break. My sister was at school in Austin, and she always picked me up on the way home and she was** always** at least an hour late. No exceptions."

* * *

**College Station, Texas **

**March 1993**

"I'm all packed and ready to go," Nick announced as he rushed into his boyfriend's studio apartment. "My sister's supposed to be at my room any minute, but she'll be at least an hour, so I ran back over here to spend a little more time."

"I knew you would." Wade teased as he stepped out from behind the open refrigerator door, wearing only a pair of ripped and unbuttoned faded Levis. "Are you sure I can't come with ya? Maybe the Judge would be less judgmental than you think"

"No, I'm 99.9 percent certain he'd kill us both." Watching his shirtless lover open a carton of eggs made Nick hungry for cowboy and omelet. "I didn't eat anything yet." He had spent the night and left before dawn that morning.

"I figured." Wade held up an egg. "I was gonna make you your favorite omelet, so you'd have something to remember me by for two and half weeks."

As he liked to do when his boyfriend was cooking for him, Nick slipped his arms around his waist from behind and kissed his shoulder. "You should call and say the bookstore needs me back early."

"Are you sure? Because we already used that one in January."

"They won't care about me once the party's over, they just need all the kids there to prop the perfect family image." He dispensed another kiss. "And they'll like hearing I'm a valued employee. They did the last time."

"You don't have to convince me." Done whisking the eggs, he turned around and cupped his partner's face. "I'm the one who didn't want you to go in the first place."

"It's always going to have to be like this," Nick gulped, hoping Wade could deal with the reality that he was never going to come out to his family.

"I know." After a kiss, he whispered, "But someone has to look out for you, Nicky, because you were nothin' but a stressed out, ulcer-prone head case the day you walked into the bookstore." He winked and returned to their eggs. "And hell, there are far worse jobs than lovin' you and keepin' it a secret."

"Pig farming?" Nick half-joked as he hopped up onto the counter.

"I was thinkin' commercial fisherman off Nova Scotia." After dumping the eggs into a heated frying pan, Wade grinned, "I saw a documentary on swordfish boats, and damn…those guys really suffer. They probably don't have sit home and let their significant others get blow jobs from girls, but they freeze their asses off , work sixteen hour days, and can't go for a walk when they need one, so who am I to complain?"

Nick tried to joke about it, "Yeah, and that last girl was so bad at it, I couldn't even close my eyes and pretend it was you."

"What are ya gonna have to do at home to prove you're a real man?" He tried not to sound worried.

"I have it all planned out. I'm gonna tell girls at home that I can't go out, because I have someone special at A&M, then when I get back here, I'm gonna tell the guys I hooked up with a girl from back home, and she could be **the one…**and a southern gentleman doesn't cheat on a girl who's gonna carry his babies, so they'll leave me alone."

"Aren't you tired of livin' three different lives? Dallas, A&M, us…I'm not even sure how you tell people so many stories without slippin' up."

"I've been forced to become an excellent storyteller." With his eyes and his voice, he pleaded, "Two more years Then I'll have my Bachelor's and you'll have your Master's and we can wave goodbye to Texas as we drive off into the sunset and away from anyone who knows me. The way my sisters are pumpin' out babies, my parents are gonna be all about the grandkids and forget I exist. You'll get your dream job in the forest, and I'll get a job where it's easy to believe I have to work holidays, and then we don't have to be apart then either. It'll work."

"Eggs are done."

Fear edging into his voice, Nick quietly asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, and it's serious," Wade replied, after swallowing a bite of eggs. "I forgot the salt and everything else that would have made this an omelet."

Fearing that it really was going to be something serious, Nick glared at his partner. "You suck."

"Yeah, I do…much better than an Aggie fangirl." Grinning, he held up a bite of the non-omelet. "I love you. I love your plan. I apologize for ruining breakfast." After thrusting the bite into his lover's mouth, he said, "You're worth waiting for, Nicky…two weeks, two years, I'll be here."

His heart soaring, the relieved boyfriend replied, "These are the worst eggs you've ever made me. I love you too. Thank you."

Wade dumped the failed omelet into the sink. "All part of my plan, so we'd have time for somethin' else." He whisked his partner off the counter and into his arms. "Since the eggs were a bust, I'll have to give you this to remember me by." Joking, he slammed him up against the wall, dropped to his knees, and did his best Aggie fangirl impression, "I can't wait to tell my girlfriends that I tasted what Aggie football stars are made of! You're gonna give me your t-shirt after I do this, right?"

"You know the rules, sweetheart…you only get a player's shirt if you chug or bend over."

"Ugh." The non-jock rolled his eyes. "Just one of the many fine traditions we have here in Aggieland."

"I wonder why they don't promote that one in the prospective student flyer?"

Rising to his feet, Wade said, "Do we have time for a proper sendoff?"

Nick checked his watch. "Thirty minutes of fun, five minutes to shower, and five minutes to get back to my place."

"Tick tock." Rushing his hands under his perpetually time-stressed mate's shirt, he laughed, "I can't wait for you to spend a week with your family and come back to me a tightly wound, over-stressed, pent-up mess."

"Nothin' a little quality time with you won't fix." After several minutes of heated foreplay, Nick grew impatient and faced the counter. "These will be my last stress-free minutes for a while." The bump of his lover's heated body made him frantically pop open his jeans and shove them and his briefs to his ankles."

Wade tried to slow things down with a kiss. "Why are you rushin', Sporto?"

Eyes locked on his partner's, he vulnerably replied, "Because I'm already gettin' tense thinkin' about dealin' with everyone back home. I just want to feel instead of think."

After a lingering kiss, Wade reached into his pocket - anticipating his lover's last minute visit, he had planned ahead. "C'mon…let's go to the bed and take our time."

Nick responded by shoving his partner's jeans to the ground and grabbing the supplies out of his hand. "Here's good."

"You're in one of those moods, huh?" He had long ago figured out that when Nick was overwhelmed with anxiety, he liked their love making to be aggressive, but when he felt calm and happy, he enjoyed teasing, silliness, and romance. "Whatever you need, honey." He walked over to the CD player and turned up the volume, so the neighbors wouldn't hear them enjoying each other.

* * *

**December 9, 2002 **

"I didn't know my sister's roommate was in a car accident, and that she had called home sayin' she needed to stay a couple of extra days until the girl's parents flew in from the air force base in Germany where they were stationed." Nick's voice cracked, "My dad went to the house and the guys told him I said I went to Wade's. As you can imagine, the Judge wasn't gonna stand around waitin' on me, so he asked for directions to Wade's apartment. Nowadays he woulda been able to call my cell phone, but I didn't have one back then and no one back at the house knew Wade's phone number."

Greg's stomach was in knots thinking about the impending train wreck.

"In my rush into the apartment, I didn't lock the door behind me, not that anyone had ever just walked in, but normally I would've made sure. The music was loud, and we were in the thick of things. He was givin' it to me exactly like I wanted and I was still beggin' for more. That's what my father saw when he walked in…he figured we couldn't hear the door bell over the country music blastin'."

His palm pressed over his mouth, Greg wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened next.

"He said he was too stunned to believe it was even real. There wasn't a second where he had ever even considered I might like guys, so it truly was surreal for him. He was paralyzed with shock and just stood there watchin'. A lot of crime witnesses say that happens to them when their brain can't handle what their eyes are seeing, that's why they can't always relay the details accurately." In a detached tone, Nick said, "We finished together, by then we were drenched…breathless. I was sayin' how good it was and he was tellin' me how much he loved me. I remember that part and then turnin' my head to the left and seein' the Judge lookin' like he had just witnessed unspeakable evil. I don't remember what I said, but hearin' my voice snapped him out of the trance and made him realize everything was real." Biting back his tears, he said, "There was a lot of screamin', and I saw Wade hit the ground. His pants were still around his ankles, so he couldn't even get to his feet before my father started kickin' him."

Still at a loss for words, Greg just clutched his friend's hand.

"Then my father turned on me." In a shaky voice, he shared, "I don't remember what he said, I just remember his face was red and he was screaming. I remember tasting blood in my mouth and feelin' somethin' warm runnin' down the side of my head. That's when Wade grabbed my dad's arms and held him back. He was just tryin' to protect me, but I panicked and thought he might kill him and screamed for him to stop hurting my dad…I was thinkin' that I didn't want my mom to be a widow." Nick pushed out a breath. "I pulled my pants up at some point, I don't remember when, and pleaded for both of them to promise not to hurt each other. That I would do **anything **my father wanted if he would stop saying he was going to kill Wade. And when my dad said that the only way he'd guarantee it, would be if I left with him, I grabbed my shirt, and bolted out the door."

"Holy shit," Greg blurted after keeping his feelings to himself the entire time. "What happened after you got outside with your Dad?"

"Apparently I was bleedin' pretty bad, because the first person who saw me on the street freaked out. My father covered and said I had gotten into a fight and called him to come get me. Then Wade ran after us, and of course he was a mess too. I didn't want to cause a scene in public, so I begged him to please go back inside that I would handle everything and we'd talk when I got back from Dallas. I promised him that nothin' would keep me from him, not even my family, we just all needed time to cool down. He went back inside…he did it for me, but in hindsight, I wish he would've caused a scene and let the whole fucking world know what had just happened."

"That must have been a tense car ride home."

"First we had to stop at Urgent Care and get my eye and my lip stitched."

"Didn't they get suspicious that you had been abused?"

"I wasn't nine, Greg, I was twenty and wearin' an A&M football t-shirt, they didn't bat an eye when my father told them I had been busted up by a guy who found out I had kissed his girlfriend."

"Right. Sorry, of course not."

"While I was gettin' stitched, he left the room and when I was done, I saw him in the waiting area on a pay phone, writing something down. I thought about running out the backdoor, but couldn't deal with the thought of my family hearing what happened, so I sat down in a chair and mindlessly flipped through a magazine."

"My father never even spanked me, I can't imagine what it would have been like to suddenly have your dad hit you."

"It was hardly the first time, all of us kids got the strap in his office, and dependin' on what you did, those sessions could be pretty bad. The mental pain, more than the whippin'. He never did more than spank my sisters, but my brother and I got some solid slaps across the face and shoves to the ground over the years."

"Oh." Greg once again thanked God for his quirky, but loving family.

"When he was done on the phone, he pointed to the door and I walked out of lobby like a dutiful son. He told me to get in the back and not say a word. A few minutes into the ride, he started crying, which you wanna talk about bein' shocked – I had never seen my father cry, none of us kids had, we wondered if he had his tear ducts surgically removed."

"That had to be freaky."

Nodding, he replied, "Then he started apologizing for not showing me enough love, for always bein' busy, and for makin' me think he was more proud of my brother. I started cryin' too, and told him I loved him and I was sorry that he had to find out like he did. I really believed that we were bonding and that after a little time, he'd be able to accept everything."

Greg knew there wasn't going to be a happy ending.

"About twenty minutes into the drive, I realized we weren't goin' the usual way home. When I asked my dad where we were goin', he said he wanted to spend some time bonding with me, and showing me how much he loved me. was desperate to believe that was true, so my mind didn't question it."

If he hadn't just seen Nick's private parts, Greg would have guessed the psycho was taking him to be neutered."

"A few hours later we headed down a dirt road to what looked like a camp. I thought he was takin' me camping and they must have equipment to rent there, because we don't have anything. A few minutes later I found out I was right – it was a camp…for gay and lesbians to get straightened out by psychiatrists while good folk prayed for their souls."

"No." Suddenly his friend's PTSD with the cab driver made perfect sense. "But you were twenty, they couldn't hold you against your will, that would be kidnapping."

"I didn't have any will by that point, or guts, or common sense. I signed my life over to those people. People who had been manipulatin' me before I even got there. My dad's cryin' in the car and everything he said – it was what** they **had told him to say on the drive. That was their game plan – to make me believe that I was gay because I believed my father didn't love me. They told me he was goin' through all this and payin' a lot of money to fix me because he loved me and didn't want to have to break my mother's heart and ruin our family forever. And if that wasn't enough mindfuckery, when it was my father's time to leave, he hugged me and whispered, "Apply yourself here, Nicholas, because if you're not better by the time I return for you in a month, I'll have no choice but to ask you to leave home and tell everyone the reason why. I will not have a Sodomite hangin' around my grandchildren, am I clear?"

"That's crazy!" Greg wanted to coat Judge Sanders with jelly and lock him in a room with Dan and 300 honeybees.

"Unfortunately, it was also reality." With sorrow in his voice, he admitted, "I said 'I promise, Dad' and left with the counselor to go to my room…which they locked me in for the next forty eight hours, so I could ask the Lord for forgiveness."

"And Wade had no idea you were there."

"No." Nick tears returned. "They made me write him a letter, breaking things off and telling him that I had just been confused."

"Oh my god!" Greg hoped the nun didn't hear him yell. "Did he believe it?"

"He never got it." Turning to face the window, he cried, "He went camping. That's what he planned on doin' while I was in Dallas, it was what he always did when he needed to clear his head. While I was locked up, he was killed by a bear. The letter was in his mailbox. He died thinkin' I was comin' back, which was the only relief I had."

"A bear?" The CSI wannbe didn't buy it. "A bear? Is there a chance it really wasn't a bear?"

"There had been two other attacks that year and it was reported as a bear attack by the ranger who found him, so that's what I chose to believe…for a while." Tears streaming down his face, Nick whispered, "When I was a cop in Dallas, I used my access to check everything out, but no foul play was suspected, so the scene was never investigated. The coroner photos, which were torture to look at, definitely showed evidence of a severe mauling, but who's to say that the mauling wasn't done **after **the bear smelled blood and showed up when Wade was already dyin'. Could my dad have called in some favors? Did my brother find out and have somethin' done? Or was it really just a mauling? All evidence pointed to a mauling, but I've never been able to shake that last ounce of doubt." Wiping his face, he choked out. "Not knowing what really happened to someone you love, is a terrible feeling. So is not knowin' if your loved ones are guilty…they've never acted guilty, or said anything to make me think they are…still, there's no peace of mind."

His eyes welling, Greg asked, "Is that why you became a CSI?"

"Yes." Turning back to the window, Nick softly said, "And now that I told you all that, please don't ask me to talk about it again. If I want to talk about it again, I will."

"I promise."

"Thanks." Pulling his blanket up to his neck, the exhausted man closed his eyes. "I'm really beat." He didn't want to talk or think anymore. "I'm gonna sleep the rest of the flight."

"Me too," Greg lied, knowing he'd never be able to fall asleep with so many thoughts racing in his head. "I'll wake you when we get there."

* * *

**ANs: **

Hopefully that story explains almost everything about Nick, and gives some insight into why his relationship with Greg has been complex. I tied a lot of little things from the present into the past, some a little more obvious than others.

Thanks for reading and for the encouragement to keep going!

** I have also posted a slightly revised version of Chapter 5. Based on reader feedback, I didn't think that chapter was clear enough or in synch enough with what has been written since. I like it much better now, and hopefully everyone else will too. I don't usually go back and change a chapter, but since it's a WIP I decided it was okay :D

The busy holiday season is approaching, but I'm enjoying this story and hoping that it will keep writing itself and I'll be able to keep posting quickly : ) I don't leave you hanging to be mean, I just can't write any faster LOL

I won't have anything up until at least Monday, but probably Tuesday, because I have a hectic weekend ahead.

**Maggs**


	11. Chapter 11

**Bleeding Love – Part 11**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

"Tt's been thirty minutes, Vartann!" Grissom tapped his watch as he marched toward the detective. "Nick's done a great job calming the guy down, but you know how these situations can change on a dime, so I want that Tactical support here now!"

"There's been a complication." The detective had just gotten off the phone with the Sheriff. "The situation at the high school is still unresolved and now there's a domestic hostage situation a few miles from here and the guys that were being deployed here were just rerouted there."

"Are you telling me we're not getting any support?"

Vartann exasperatedly replied, "I'm just as ticked as you, Grissom."

"How can we have **three **TV news teams here already, but not one team from Tactical?"

"Capitalism," the world-weary detective grumbled, "Drama sells TV advertising, and there's plenty of drama in Vegas, so the stations have the money to staff up. If we actually spent the right amount on LVPD staffing there would be less drama, but the stations would lose money and the public would be bitching that nothing newsworthy ever happens in this town. Right now all over the city, people are glued to their TVs watching the high school standoff and if it goes badly, they'll watch hours and hours of network coverage on why it happened, and what we can do to recognize the signs next time, and how to prevent it from happening again, and the memorial service, and interviews with people who didn't even know the people involved. They eat that shit up."

Once again Grissom was wondering why he didn't escape with Sara when he had the chance.

"It's the Sheriff's call, and he's basing his decisions on the fact that there are no civilians at risk here, just one CSI. You know the drill – minimize civilian risk and focus resources on the situations that aren't under control. "

The words sliced through Grissom. "Yeah, and what's a little more CSI bloodshed this year, right? Clearly we're all expendable in the Sheriff's eyes."

"You're making it personal about your guys."

"Yes." Thinking of Warrick, the burnt out supervisor turned his back on the detective. "Eight months too late."

"Hey!" Vartann stuffed his hands on his hips and sighed, "Between you and me, I think Stokes is a much better negotiator than any of the Tactical guys anyway. It'll be alright." It had to be, because he was in charge of the scene when it all went down and Nick's blood would be on his hands.

"Griss!" Greg motioned for his boss to hurry up. "Nick's tryin' to talk him out of the gun. Listen!"

_I won't let anything to happen to you, Steve. I'll stay with you every step of the way so they won't shoot, I promise._

_I'm already dead - a bullet is just a formality. _

_I wasn't lyin' when I said I needed a friend. Talkin' through all that stuff with you has really helped me figure things out. We can still be friends after we walk out of here together. _

_That's just something you're saying to get out of here. You won't visit me in prison. _

_I will. I promise. I visited the daughter of the guy who put me in that coffin, the same woman who wouldn't provide information critical to my rescue. _

_You did?_

_Yeah. She didn't want to talk though, so it was a short visit. C'mon, Steve, let's do this together._

_I can't. _

_Why?_

_Because I haven't decided yet._

_Haven't decided what yet?_

_How I want this to end. _

_I know how it __**needs**__ to end - with both of us walkin' out of here alive. _

_Will my wife be able to cash my insurance policy if the cops shoot me?_

_I don't want to think about that, man, because I want you to live._

_Answer the question!! _

Greg looked to Grissom. "He's getting edgy again."

"Yeah."

_Steve, do you want your wife to be able to collect?_

_No, I don't want the bitch to get another damn dime from me._

_Then __**stay alive**__ and go to do the time for your crimes, because then the bitch won't be able to collect on your policy and she won't have your income either. That's the best way to stick it to her, right? If you're dead, she'll collect the insurance money, buy herself a bunch of fancy things, and bring guys home to sleep on your old pillow._

_She's probably already online booking a trip to Maui._

_So why give her the chance to collect the money and have the last laugh when you can laugh at her from prison and say you begged to go behind bars to get away from her bitching. Tell her she's been taking you for granted, and now that she'll have to get off her lazy ass and get a job, maybe she'll realize how lucky she was to have a guy working hard to keep a roof over her ungrateful head! _

_I think you might be right._

_Hell yeah, I'm right! Then you can divorce her while you're in prison, and make your own life. You can take college classes or write a book, and some of the prisons have animal care programs. With your veterinary experience, after you demonstrate good behavior in the system, they'll probably want you to work with the dogs. And get this…there's a whole bunch of women out there who love to write and visit nice guys who made one mistake in their life, but want to turn things around. How cool would it be to tell your ex-wife that you've got a girlfriend?_

_Wow. You really are my friend. _

"Nice job, Nicky." Grissom gave a reassuring nod to Greg. "He's regained his trust."

_Okay, we'll do it your way, but I'm not ready to leave yet. I want to enjoy my last hours of freedom hanging out with you. I promise I won't kill you, Nick. _

_Thank you for doin' that, Steve, I really feel a lot better now. _

"**Doing** that?" Greg shook his head. "**Saying **that would have made more sense or promising, but doing?"

Grissom had found the phrase odd as well. "I wonder if he unlocked the cuffs."

_Tell me the rest of the Pittsburgh story. I want to hear about your big night with Greta. _

_Okay, but not the really long version, because pretty soon I'm gonna have to pee and you'll need to uncuff me, because I don't want to walk outside with piss pants. _

"He's still cuffed." Grissom's brow knitted. "Maybe he unlocked one to make him more comfortable?"

"Maybe he put down the gun or better yet, maybe he took the bullets out."

_Did you piss your pants in the coffin? _

_Yeah, that situation literally scared the piss out of me, but I told everyone that pissin' in my pants was a strategic move to keep the ants away from my parts, which it thankfully did, 'cause I think it would have been easier to pull the trigger if my pecker was gettin' gnawed off and stung. Luckily I had taken a dump right before gettin' kidnapped, because squritin' in my shorts woulda been a lot harder to justify. _

"The edginess is gone again." Hearing Steve's laughter put Greg at ease. "That's a relief, huh?"

"Our tactical support has been redirected," Grissom blurted, once Greg was relaxed again.

"What?!"

"There's a domestic violence situation a few miles from here and they were rerouted. Nick will need to ride this out a little longer."

"Okay, fine. I'm not worried." He said it out loud to convince himself.

"Good, because…" The ring of his cell phone put a smile on Grissom's face. "I hope it's the Sheriff, because I'm **really** in the mood to rip…the Caller ID says it's Dan Sanders with a California area code."

"Why would my father be…oh, shit." Seeing the TV vans gave him his answer. "The media must be reporting a CSI is being held hostage. My mom keeps the Vegas news website up 24/7 and I've been ignoring her calls to listen to Nick." He scrambled for his cell. "Tell him I'm calling her right now! But tell him **not** to tell her that it took a call to you to get me to call her back! I'll be in the Denali!"

"You're thirty years old, Greg! I think it's about time you stop lying to your mommy!" Remembering he had told a very distraught Mr. and Mrs. Sanders they could call him anytime they were worried about their son, he was happy to answer the phone with some good news. "Grissom…yes, he's fine, he's off to find a private spot to call his mother right now…I completely understand after what she's been through….really, it' not a problem, that's why I gave you my card when we spoke at the hospital."

* * *

"Gregory!" Leaning against the marble-topped island in her sunny California kitchen, Connie Sanders pressed the phone to her ear to cherish the sound of her son's voice.

"_I'm fine, Mom." _

"Oh, thank God you're okay. I'm tracking the news on the Vegas TV station website. It looks like all hell is breaking loose in there."

"_Yeah. Sorry for worrying you." _

Covering the receiver, the relieved mother smiled at her parents who were seated at the table holding hands. "He's fine." Just then her husband returned to the kitchen. "Greg's on the line. He's okay."

Dan Sanders smiled at his wife and didn't tell her that his call to Grissom prompted their son to finally reply to her frantic voice mails. "I told you not to worry."

"_Mom…" _

"Sorry, I was just telling your father and Nana and Papa that you're alright."

"_It's Nick. The CSI hostage is Nick." _

"Oh God." Connie's tension returned with a vengeance. "Nick's the hostage," she whispered to the rest of the family.

"_He's gonna be fine. He's already got the guy talking to him like they've been best buddies for years. We don't have visual contact, but we snuck in a wire and are able to listen in on what's happening inside the house. The guy's promised not to shoot him and I believe him." _

Clutching her head, the troubled mother closed her eyes. "Well, if anyone can get out of a tight spot, it's Nick. I have complete faith that he'll be okay."

"_From what I've heard him saying on the wire, I think we might be okay too. He misses the way things were, Mom." _

Connie shook her head. "Greg, you…"

"_Don't. There's still a chance he could get injured or killed and if you say anything bad about him and something happens…it might be hard to forgive you." _

"Sweetheart, I was just going to say…" Thinking of her son's words, she opted to lie. "You have just given me an even **better** reason to fight to get Prop 8 overturned! In case you **re**-propose and Nick **re-**accepts, and the two of you want to **re**-plan a ceremony for July 2009 just like we were planning for July 2008, I want to make sure you have the legal right to call it a marriage."

Rubbing his temples, Dan looked at his in-laws. "Here we go again." When the elderly couple started clutching their heads and whispering in Norwegian, a language he never could grasp, he heaved a painful sigh and sat at the table with them. "Yeah, I completely agree with you."

Connie continued to front a sunny tone, "My PFLAG mother's group is coordinating a huge protest for this weekend and the news of yet **another **trauma-induced reunion between you and Nick will give me the motivation I need to make the demonstration a huge success. I'm sure we'll make it onto MSNBC, I've been emailing that adorable lesbian Rachel Maddow asking her to cover it on her show. I wonder if my 'mother of the grooms' dress still fits? I'm so happy for you, sweetie. I** really** think it will work out this time."

"_Don't ever commit a crime, mom, you're a terrible liar._"

Deciding to drop the act, the concerned mother snipped, "I'm also the person who had to glue you back together after Warrick Brown died and Nick decided a good follow up to that tragedy would be to break your heart."

"_Mom…"_

"When you were here **sobbing **in my arms, your exact words were 'If I'm **ever **stupid enough to want to get back together with him again, remind me why I **hate** him.' All I'm guilty of is being a loving mother who is doing exactly what she promised her heartbroken son she would do. So here is your reminder, Gregory…that bastard looked you in the eyes and said he felt less suffocated in that **coffin** than he did living with you." It killed her to think anyone could say something so callous to her little boy, no less Nick, a man she welcomed into her home and treated like her own son. "If you really think about it, he said life with you is worse than being buried alive and nearly stung to death by fire ants. And when you cried and asked him to apologize for saying something so hurtful, his reply was 'I'm sorry…I can't go through with the ceremony' and then he walked out the door."

"_He was messed up from losing Warrick. The shrink I'm seeing told me that considering his past, Nick was probably scared of losing me too, so he decided to push me away before he could lose me. She thinks that's what he's been doing all along – self sabotage. It really makes sense if you…"_

"Honey, it does make sense, it's what I've been telling you **for free** for years." Flicking tears from her cheeks, Connie spoke from her aching heart, "I know Nick loves you and wants desperately to have a life with you, but he's one of those tragic people who are damaged beyond repair and incapable of living with, freely loving, or committing to you or anyone. There's** always **going to be something that scares him off or freaks him out. Always. If the three breakups you've already suffered through weren't enough to prove that to you, I'm sure I can't, but I feel obligated to try because you turned thirty years old this year and you've waited for him long enough. No matter what he says or needs after this trauma, you **can't** enable him, you have to say no. No talking, no hugging, no kissing, no cooking for him, nothing except saying that you can't hop on the rollercoaster again. **Promise me**."

"_Not everyone is meant to have a spouse, a kid, a safe job, and a house in The Valley, Mom…and broken people need to be loved even if they're incapable of returning it normally. I lived twenty-eight years of my life before anything truly bad happened to me, Nick was nine when he got molested and he hasn't caught a break since. While he's lived most of his life fearing the loss of his family's love, I have never known anything but unconditional love from mine. So if I only get to be insanely happy every other year from here on out, I'm still way ahead of Nick and a ton of other broken people in this screwed up world._

Blowing her nose, Connie blamed herself for her son's inability to give up on lost causes. "I really curse the day I encouraged you to read Gandhi and started taking you to help serve at the soup kitchen to help the needy."

"_I love you, Mom. I need to get back to the scene now."_

"Call me when Nick's safe."

"_I will. Bye." _

"Bye," she replied, a beat too late.

"What's going on?" the worried husband asked when his wife slammed the phone down. "Nick's the hostage?"

"Yes," she snapped. "But he'll be fine.

Dan glared at his spouse. "You say that like you'd rather have him die."

"Are you kidding me!? The only thing that could be **worse **than having my son pine after Stokes would be for him to be haunted by his ghost for the rest of his life." Connie grabbed a wine glass. "Nick has to live or the spell will never be broken."

Watching his overly emotional daughter pour a glass of Pinot Grigio in the middle of the day, Papa Olaf counseled, "Connie, you can't choose who your child loves…and you should be thankful for that, or you wouldn't be married to Danny-boy here. We thought he was a loser from the second we met him and when you told us you wanted to marry the deadbeat…" He laughed with his wife. "We thought he'd never amount to anything and we'd be supporting the two of you for the rest of your lives."

"Yeah." Dan patted his father-in-law on the back. "I went from borrowing rent money from you to paying cash for 6,000 square feet in the Valley, inviting you to live with us, and watching my boy graduate from Stanford. So much for your family's supposed psychic abilities, huh?"

Connie redirected the trip down memory lane. "And how is Greg using that Stanford education? Is he finding a cure for cancer or writing papers that could change the world? No! Thanks to Nick, he was inspired to put his life on the line playing CSI and he spends his free time penning books on mob history, because when he was telling Nick an Old Vegas story one night, the cowboy said 'that story would make a great book'."

"He's fighting a different kind of cancer, Connie." Nana Olaf reasoned with her stubborn and sometimes selfish daughter. "He's battling a societal cancer – violent crime. We know for sure Stanley Tanner is alive because of Greg, who knows how many others have lived because of who he helped put behind bars? You should be proud of him and stop trying to change his path. He's right where he's supposed to be, because if the Lord wanted him to working in a research lab, he'd be there."

"Mothers of four can afford to have a child working in a dangerous occupation," Connie cried, her own baggage haunting her, "but I'm a mother of **one**, and the price is too steep."

The irritated father lectured, "I told you to let him play sports, Constance. If he had been able to experience even **one hour** of risk during his childhood, he probably wouldn't be craving it day and night. Even with scouts, you had to be the Den Mother." The 71 year old shook his finger at his son-in-law. "You should have forced her to let him play hockey."

"I've never forced your daughter to do anything against her will and you should be happy about that, old man."

"Hockey would have made that boy tough." The former player pumped his fists. "He wouldn't have gotten his ass kicked if he had played hockey. He could have fought back like a man instead of using his truck." He returned to chiding his daughter, "And he wouldn't be gay if he played hockey, because girls like to be poked by hockey players and he would've knocked up a beauty at seventeen like I did." He winked at his wife. "He'd be married and you'd have grandbabies by now, but no…you had to coddle him and wipe his nose until he left for college."

Annoyed with her father, she shouted, "Quick, Dan! Call James Dobson and tell him he can relax, because my father has found the cure to homosexuality. If all pre-pubescent boys start playing hockey today, eventually the world will be straight as an arrow and overpopulated with high school dropouts and unplanned children!

"Honey…"

"It's not fair, Dan!" Connie refocused on her original point. "Nick's parents have **six** other children. **Six **perfectly straight, grandbaby-producing children, but I have **one son** and he can't have happiness, because he loves their closeted gay boy, who they pretty much ignore save his birthday, Christmas, and kidnappings! So what if they disown him? They have six breeders that fit their tidy little conservative mold and I will be happy to be Nick's new mommy, frankly I already think I've been more of mother to him in the last four years than his own has."

"Now it's Nick's parents fault that Greg isn't happily married?" Dan stated, knowing his wife was spiraling out of control.

"Yes! Until Nick can tell his parents he's gay, he can't settle down with Greg, and he's never going to tell them because he believes they'll disown him, which means Greg is going to live in 'love limbo' with Nick the rest of his god-damn life!"

"Watch your mouth, Constance!"

"I'm 54, Dad! I can say whatever the** hell** I want to in my own **fucking** house! If you don't like it, there's a dreary room at Shady Acres waiting for you and they don't allow pets, so Skippy, Twitch, and Carmen Miranda will be out on the street thumbing their way to the Humane Society!"

"Time out!" Dan stepped between the hot-headed Norse man and his equally confrontational daughter. "Neither of you can change a thing about the past, and you both know that. Old man, you know she gets like this every time she thinks of the babies we lost and you **know** it just makes the pain worse when you accuse her of mis-parenting Greg – so stop it. Connie, you know your father is right, the hockey cure for homosexuality being the exception – so let's drop this pointless arguing and move on. I'm hungry and I need more shelving for my office. Who wants to go to IKEA?"

The senior citizens leapt out of their chairs.

"Yeah, I knew you lingonberry lovers would be joining me."

"We can't go to IKEA. We have to wait for Greg to call!"

"No, we don't," the hip 69 year old grandmother informed her daughter, "He'll text your Blackberry if you're not home."

"You're really going?"

"Yes," the trio answered in perfect unison, having decided long ago to stop enabling Connie's preoccupation with her son's safety.

Dropping his arm around his father-in-law's shoulders, Dan parroted the phrase he used to hear coming out of the old man's mouth three decades ago, "Always up for a free meal, aren't ya? Freeloading slacker."

"I don't have time for lunch anyway!" Connie shouted to the closing door. With the cordless phone in her hand, the unnerved mother marched off for her office to check email and make more protest signs. "I have a demonstration to coordinate!"

Walking down the hall full of family photos, Connie's emotions got the best of her again. "I just want you to be happy, Greg." Staring at her son's Kindergarten portrait, she cried. _I know you don't believe me, but I really __**can**__ live without grandchildren, but I __**can't**__ live with you being miserable every other year. But you're not five anymore and I can't show up on the playground to fix things for you. As much as I hate to admit it, your Papa Olaf is right, I should have let you swing as high as you wanted and run as fast as you could go…but I was just too afraid of losing you._

Falling silent, she stared at the little boy in the photo and longed for the return of his carefree smile. _You're forever changed. How could you not be after seeing what you've seen in the field?_ Her thoughts again turned to what she could do to help the situation, but she came up blank…until a plane flew over the house. _Everything I do, right or wrong, is because I love you, Greg_. Punching in the numbers on the telephone, she told herself it was the only thing to do. "It's time to force the issue," she muttered on her way to the master bedroom. _If he won't do what should have been done years ago, I will. You'll both hate me for it, but I'm confident you'll both thank me one day, because no matter what happens, I'll have ended the prolonged agony that indecision and stagnation bring._ By the time she stepped into her walk-in closet, she felt at peace with her decision. _I am going to look my fear of losing you right in the eye and…_The cheery voice of a customer service operator interrupted her mental pep talk.

"_Thank you for choosing Southwest Airlines, this is Glenda speaking, how may I help you today?" _

Grabbing her weekender bag, Connie anxiously replied, "I need to book a flight for this afternoon."

"_From which airport, ma'am?" _

"LAX."

"_And your destination city?" _

"Dallas_._"

* * *

**ANs: **

And Nick already thought he was having a bad day.

LOL It wouldn't be a Maggs story if there wasn't a hefty dose of family dysfunction! For anyone who has read my other two series – this version of Greg's mom still retains that vehemently overprotective mother flaw, and is excessively emotional when it comes to her little boy, but you'll see she's not insane like Bev Sanders or invasively pushy like Jan Sanders. Connie will display what Bev and Jan both lacked when it came to dealing with other people – patience, good judgment, and tact! Within her own slightly crazy family though, she freely states whatever is on her mind without a verbal filter. Dan Sanders isn't a clueless third wheel like Scott Sanders, and he's not uptight and slightly distant like Dave Sanders, he's been equally involved in his household and is the more carefree/jokester of the bunch.

Thanks for sticking with the story! I haven't been able to reply to comments from the last few chapters, because I was busy this weekend, but thanks to everyone who left one, especially about the last chapter, because that one was one of my favorites to write and it was great to know I wasn't the only one who enjoyed it : )

Hopefully just a couple of days until the next chappie is up!

**Take care, **

**Maggs**


	12. Chapter 12

**Bleeding Love – Part 12**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

**December 6, 2002 **

"Ladies annnnd gentleman, welcome to Pittsburgh." Chad cheerily spoke via the airline intercom. "The local time is 6:43 a.m. and I hope you packed your mittens, kittens - because the outside air temperature is a nippy 33 degrees. I want to take this opportunity to say it was our pleasure to serve you and if you enjoyed our service on this flight our names are Staci, Melanie, and Chad. If you didn't…those aren't our real names. If you're visiting Pittsburgh for business or pleasure or **both **– you know who you are, we certainly hope you enjoy your stay in Steelers Country. If you're returning home to Pittsburgh from Vegas, we hope you have enough money left to get your car out of the parking garage. Anyone with checked luggage will want to proceed to Baggage Carousel **17**, everyone else probably knows what to do. If you have any questions, I will be at the exit to assist you. As always, thank you for choosing to fly with us. Have a wonnnnnderful day."

Still groggy from being woken out of a dead sleep, Nick groaned and rubbed his face, "Was Chad always that perky?"

"Yeah," Greg yawned, "It was cute when we were shitfaced."

"Whaddya mean **were**?" Nick pried open one eye. "It's only been less than two hours since our last bottle. We're still waaay over legal and I still feel buzzed."

"Me too."

"I'm probably still a good hour away from pukin' though."

"Really? I could puke right now," Greg announced as he forced himself to stand and pop open the overhead compartment. "But I'm holding out for the airport bathroom, because I don't want to taint the memory of my mile-high adventure by hurling in the same place where you rocked my world."

His hands still covering his face, Nick moaned. "Did all of that really happen?"

"Having regrets?"

"Not about foolin' around." Peering though his parted fingers, the exhausted man confessed, "I regret that I told you all my secrets."

Setting his co-worker's laptop and carry-on bag on the aisle seat, Greg sweetly replied, "Honestly, I don't think you would have shared your secrets unless you needed to."

"Yeah, you're probably right." Even though he regretted opening up, there was no denying he felt substantially less burdened.

"Don't worry." Grabbing his water bottle, Greg twisted open the cap. "I promise your secrets are safe with me."

"Thanks." Nick stepped into the aisle. "For the promise and for gettin' my stuff down for me."

"You're welcome." Greg chewed his bottom lip while he fought the urge to steal a kiss. "Um." Remembering he had an open bottle of water in his hand, he occupied his mouth with a hearty sip.

Watching his trusted friend swallow a gulp of water, the lonely cowboy longed to take the bottle's place against Greg's soft lips. "I'm really dehydrated. Can I have a sip?"

"Any time."

It was almost like kissing him, Nick mused as he circled his mouth around the same inch of plastic.

"I wish I was that bottle," Greg blurted, causing his pal to laugh and spray water from his mouth. "I really didn't mean to say that out loud."

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, the equally lusty man replied, "I laughed 'cause I was thinkin' the same thing watchin' you drink from the bottle, but it'll be a cold day in hell before I break my PDA rule again."

"For a second there I though you were going to say it would be a cold day in hell before you ever touched me again, because I'm really looking forward to being your wank buddy for the next eight days." Closing the overhead compartment, the relieved jokester said, "From now on, if we get a public urge, we can share a water bottle and know it's code for 'I wish this was you quenching my thirst'."

* * *

"Where were we, Steve?" Nick yawned. "Sorry, I've been up for like twenty hours. We were still on the plane, right?"

"Yeah, you and Greta fell asleep right after getting back from the bathroom." Steve sat back against the dresser directly across from his buddy.

"Okay, yeah." Nick closed his eyes to recall the moment. "I woke up expectin' things to be reeeeally awkward, because I don't usually wake up next to the person I hooked up with the night before. Even though I'm a romantic guy at heart, I was goin' through a '_love 'em and leave 'em and never go out with 'em again' _kinda thing back then. I was really surprised that I still wanted to be with Greta the morning after. We didn't dare touch each other though, because we were in Pittsburgh and someone arriving for the conference coulda seen us – that was part of the fun though – us havin' an inside joke in front of colleagues."

"Mental foreplay," Steve snickered.

"Exactly," Nick chuckled, focusing on the happy memories instead of his present predicament. "It's department policy that two guys traveling together have to share a room to keep costs down, but they can't force a man and a woman share one. When Greta and I got to the hotel, they mistakenly had us rooming together. Since the place was booked solid for the convention, all they could do was offer to pay for another room at a different hotel. Without missing a beat, Greta tells the Desk Clerk she wouldn't mind sharing a room with me because she has five brothers."

"Fate was on your side."

* * *

"No, department policy was on our side." Greg smiled at his boss. "See, that's why we shouldn't have to pay you back for the room. We were following department policy."

"If you can find where in the department policy it says that two co-workers traveling together are entitled to skip 80 percent of a conference if they decide they would rather spend time cuddling, among other things, then you won't have to reimburse anything and I'll even pay to send you both on a trip."

"I accept your challenge."

_So we're in the lobby grinnin' at the prospect of sharin' a room for the next week, when these two twenty-something CSI guys from Boston see me. Steve, these big Forensics conferences work just like high school – there are cliques and you have cool buddies you hang out with, chicks you want to scam, and boring dudes you want to avoid at all costs – guys like my boss, Grissom._

"He didn't mean it, Griss." Greg chuckled, "I'm sure that's just one of the many lies he's telling to keep the psycho entertained."

"MmmHmm."

_These two guys from Chicago are at the top of the conference food chain, they're hilarious and they always compete to see who can score more tail from check-in to check-out, the winner buys the loser a steak dinner when they get home. Even though they're career frat boys, they're really great CSIs who work in the toughest part of town._

"He has to be talking about the Dwyer brothers."

"Yep." Greg laughed before reciting their tagline with a Boston accent, "Two D's on the prowl for Double D's."

_So there we are in the lobby when the Dwyer Brothers yell 'Hey! It's Sin City Stokes!'_

* * *

Tom Dwyer slammed his palm on the Vegas CSI's back. "Wow, you look like shit, Nicky. Did ya walk here?"

"No, I fuckin' pulled a double before gettin' on a red-eye." Nick dropped his bags at Greg's feet and grinned at the D Brothers. "I was gonna sleep on the flight, but this leggy sandy-haired blonde with the cutest ass and an irresistible smile, invited me to share a row and pound bottles of whisky. I'm hungover and spent, so please, boys…no screaming."

"Way to go, Stokes!" they yelled while play punching their fellow CSI. "Did you get another stamp on your Mile High Club Card?"

"Guys, c'mon…you know I don't kiss and tell."

"Right." Kevin Dwyer rolled his eyes. "You kiss and **brag." **

Feeling invisible in the presence of three uber-cool CSI guys, Greg just stood there listening.

"You know me too well." Nick enthusiastically spoke like the hetero horndog the guys believed him to be. "After knocking back a few bottles, I was asked to find a blanket."

"Always a good sign," Tom snickered.

"Next thing I know we're snuggled up, swappin' stories about high school and how we popped our cherries. All that sex talk had me hotter than a virgin farm boy at a whorehouse. That's when I leaned over and said I'd be in the bathroom if anyone wanted to find me. Thirty seconds later we were rippin' each other's clothes off and makin' out like teenagers with an early curfew."

"How big were her tits?" Kevin queried, wanting a clear visual.

"Sorry, dude, I know how much you love a good rack, but my mile high hottie was flat. Bein' an ass man, that didn't bother me, and **boy**, did this babe have a sweet piece."

Bursting into a shit-eating grin, Greg shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor.

"Remember the train scene from Risky Business?" While the brothers salivated and nodded, the storyteller whispered, "The ride with this babe…**ten times hotter**. I'm talkin' twenty minutes of nonstop toe-curling passion at a euphoria-inducing 30,000 feet…and that was just the first round."

"Whoa," the twin brothers breathed out in perfect unison.

"Yeah, I had to friggin' crawl back to my seat after that maniac was done with me and if I sleep from now until dinner, I won't be fully recovered."

"Did you get her digits?"

"How hot is this - I didn't even get a **name**." Nick boasted, "That was part of the deal – it was an anonymous airplane fantasy and I was just the lucky guy who was in the right place at the right time to play the role of the sexy stranger."

When they heard goofy laughter, The Brothers Dwyer peered around Nick. "Who's the geek?"

"A DNA Lab Rat Grissom forced me to bring."

"We were hoping Brown was coming to this one," Kevin huffed, "I like clubbing with him, because he attracts the ladies and I don't mind takin' his leftovers."

"Rick's goin' to the one in Orlando next month."

"Bummer."

"I really doubt you'll see the boy genius here partyin'." Nick patted Greg's shoulder. "He fell asleep readin' a book twenty seconds into the flight, but at least he didn't cut into my action. Right, buddy?" He made a formal introduction. "Kevin and Tom Dwyer, this is Greg Sanders, Vegas's finest DNA guy. Seriously, he's a real asset to the lab and he handles my stuff really well, so you better not give him any shit this week."

"Nice to meet you." Greg extended his hand.

While everyone was getting acquainted, Nick grabbed the water bottle sticking out of the front pocket on his buddy's carry-on bag. "Mmm." Smiling at his secret hook-up, he announced, "I'm **really** thirsty."

* * *

_The whole time we were in the crowded elevator, Greta and I were havin' the most outrageous eye sex._

"Eye sex?" Grissom turned to his co-worker. "What does eye-sex mean, Casanova?"

"When two people stare hungrily or longingly at each other because they can't say or do anything in mixed company." To paint a clearer picture, Greg said, "Like before you and Sara got together, how you used to stare at each other while we were..." Realizing his faux-pas, he fell silent.

"You could see…"

"Everyone could see there was something special between you and Sara."

"Everyone but me," Grissom muttered under his breath, as he cursed his subconscious decision to sabotage his relationship.

_Finally we get to our room…_

* * *

Dropping his bags on the floor of the hotel room, Greg exclaimed, "That was the longest elevator ride of my life!"

"No shit!"

"I love how you never referenced the gender of your airplane hottie, but those guys were all picturing a buxom chick."

After using his foot to shut the door, Nick tossed his baggage and a good portion of his common sense. "After all that mental foreplay, I'm more riled than I was on the plane." He reached for his buddy's hand. "C'mere." After breezing through a nine year self-imposed ban on kissing guys, he suddenly couldn't stop craving the thrill of his lips pressed to another man's. "Wait," he cautioned, with his hands cupped around Greg's face. "This is just for fun, right? And we're not goin' further than we did on the plane, because that would be more…serious."

"Right," Greg hastily promised, but he would have agreed to anything standing in the way of the kiss he had been longing for since waking up next to his crush. "You're my dating coach and this is just practice for Monday night when we go to Sparx and you hook up with Chad while I'm having a memorable night with the Brian Kinney wannabe who gets your stamp of approval."

The intimacy-phobic man nodded and said the opposite of what he subconsciously desired, "So this doesn't mean anything."

"Nope. Nothing." He would have just as easily would have given up his car or a kidney in exchange for another ten minutes with Nick. "Zip."

"Okay, good, just so we're clear."

After gaining consensus on the absolute insignificance of their actions, the men kissed with the passion of star-crossed lovers who only had sixty seconds to say goodbye before never seeing each other again.

* * *

_Do you believe in love at first sight, Nick? _

_No. I believe in attraction at first sight._

_Yeah, that's exactly how I got my wife pregnant. It wasn't love, it was a lusty attraction, and after the lust was gone…there was nothing. _

"Sex pheromones," the doctor of Biology stated in a robotic tone, "The female releases them to signal she's available for breeding and the male is programmed to respond to the call. Steve went primal and fulfilled his primitive purpose in life - propagating their species. Once the breeding requirement was satisfied, it's not unusual for one or both animals to feel nothing and move on – the female to focus on the successful birthing her offspring and the male to go out and create more of his kind. The male and female are rarely compatible for cohabitation. They have different needs – the female wants to settle in a safe place and nest, but for the male, permanency and safety can feel too much like death."

"Uh…" Greg decided to say exactly what he was thinking. "If that's your subtle way of trying to open up to me about what happened between you and Sara, go for it, because I'm a good…"

"No," the man who rarely got personal, got ruffled. "I wasn't referring to myself, I was commenting on what I just heard."

Greg pretended to believe his boss. "Right. Sorry."

_That's why I need to get to know the person, see what they're about…see how they treat me, and after all that, when we finally kiss, I can tell if it's love._

_If I had done that before sleeping with Megan, I would have known she was a self-centered, materialistic bitch. Did you know it was love the first time you kissed Greta? _

_Yeah, but I couldn't admit how I was feeling to myself, no less her. Hell, I went out of my way to say how our time together was just hot meaningless fun and kept hopin' she'd say she wanted it to be more than that, 'cause I couldn't…but she was playin' it safe too, because she sensed I'd freak if she pushed the issue. See, I had shared that I had been in love once before and I told her it was the happiest time of my life…right before it was the worst. She knew I hadn't taken the slightest chance of gettin' emotionally involved with anyone since then. Puttin' myself in that situation with her was a huge risk for me._

_Especially because you were co-workers who couldn't part ways if it all turned to shit._

_Exactly! And thankfully she has the patience of a saint, 'cause during that conference week, I was down right schizophrenic with her sometimes, but she just kept goin' with the flow and changin' direction right along with me. _

_

* * *

_"We smell like airplane," Nick remarked while tugging his buddy's shirt off. "I hate that smell."

"Me too." Feeling bold, Greg rushed his hands under his partner's tee and swiftly removed it. "It's on our clothes."

"We should probably take 'em all off then."

"Yeah."

As they plundered each other's mouths, they feverishly kicked off their shoes and worked open each other's jeans.

"Better?" Finally free of every stitch, Greg relished the feel of a warm, muscular body pressing against his torso.

"No."

Stunned to hear that his buddy wasn't similarly thrilled by the exposure, Greg vulnerably asked, "What's wrong?" He couldn't imagine it was a problem of desire, because there was solid evidence of Nick's arousal bumping against his thigh.

"We still smell like plane." His dark brown eyes radiating desire, Nick spoke in a sexy rasp, "I like to take a hot shower after flying."

"Me too."

"Wanna save time and take one together?" To encourage an affirmative answer, he seared wet, hot kisses over his buddy's rapidly rising and falling chest. "Hmm?"

Overanxious to please the man rocking his world, Greg didn't trust himself to stop things from going further than he really wanted at the moment. "Uh…" Even though he loved watching Brian and Justin going at it in the shower and often fantasized about taking the younger man's place, he didn't want his first time to be awkward or burdened by his irrational fear of slipping in the tub…a fear cemented in his mind by overprotective mother who had covered his childhood bathtub in an inch of safety rubber.

Caressing his way over the eager body in front of him, Nick whispered, "It's a simple yes or no question, G. Do you wanna get wet and slippery with me or not?"

"It depends." He decided to go with a humorous approach. "Will I be safe if I drop the soap?" He hoped his concern was clear without directly stating it.

"Absolutely." Locking his confident gaze on the vulnerable one staring at him, the experienced lover said, "We'll have the same fun we had on the plane only steamier." He winked. "And just to make sure** you** can't change your mind about goin' further, we won't bring anything we'd need to do things safely, and I don't make safety exceptions for anyone, not even you, sweetheart. Remember that."

His worries behind him, Greg led the charge. "I'll start the water! You unwrap the soap!"

First Nick paused to enjoy the sight of his bare-naked buddy bolting for the bathroom. "Mmm, very nice. I couldn't see anything in that dark airplane bathroom!"

"Cool! It's a double-wide!"

"What?" Nick stepped into the bathroom.

Already inside the stall, Greg excitedly said, "The shower is built for two and the water was hot from the second I turned it on. We'll have to thank Grissom for letting us stay at the plush conference location instead of making us hoof it from a Super 8 Motel."

Although he knew his playmate was talking, all Nick could focus on was the sight of his friend drenching his aroused body and running his fingers through his damp hair. "I'm comin' in." He held up the unwrapped bar of soap. "And I'm only bringin' this, so don't panic."

As soon as their bodies met under the steady blast of hot water, the fireworks started, and in seconds their hands were slipping and sliding to uncharted territory while their tongues were getting savagely reacquainted.

"Having fun?" Nick quizzed when they came up for air.

"Yeah." It was hard to believe they could get more out of control than they had at 30,000 feet. "I've never fooled around with someone in the shower." Greg immediately he felt like a dork for confessing, so he tried to overtalk his way out of the awkwardness. "Not that I didn't want to, there was just never a good opportunity. I actually turned a girl down once, because…you probably shower with people all the time, huh?"

"No, I always shower alone." After running his tongue up the edgy newbie's neck, he nipped his earlobe. "I'm making an exception for you."

"Why?"

"Because I think you're fucking irresistible, Sanders."

It took all of the goofy geek's willpower not to yell 'that's the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me!' Instead he opted for a much smoother reply, "Gahhh." All five of his senses overloaded with pleasure, he realized he had set his sights far too low when he proclaimed he wanted to find Brian Kinney in Pittsburgh. Clearly Nick Stokes was** the** man to be with in Pittsburgh…or on a plane…or anywhere.

Wrapping a soapy hand around the most strategic spot of the incoherent man's body, Nick devilishly taunted him. "I don't know…from the sound of things, I'd say you're about to lose it. At least you're up to countin' in minutes instead of seconds." Snickering, he upped the pace.

Greg whimpered, "Trying…not to…" before losing his battle.

"Oops." Nick couldn't have been more pleased with the expedited results.

"Sorry."

"Not a problem." After his partner's last aftershock of ecstasy, Nick consumed his mouth with a transitional kiss and then turned around. It was the first time he'd pressed his back to a man since losing Wade and the feeling was momentarily overwhelming.

"You okay?"

"More than okay," Nick replied, as his buddy's arms circled around him. "Perfect." He closed his eyes to savor the flawlessness of the moment.

"What do you want me to do?" Greg anxiously whispered, in case it was more than the obvious.

Having orchestrated the situation so he couldn't have what he truly wanted, Nick replied, "Same as the plane, just facin' a different direction. Just handlin' things." When his request was answered, he reached around and locked his right arm around Greg's neck. "That's good…real good." His breathing quickening, he let his left hand graze over his lover's thigh and settle on his hip. "Mmm." He tightened his grip, making it clear that he wanted no distance between them.

Titillated by the unfamiliar and intensely erotic position of dominance, Greg's body reignited in record time. "I'm uh…"

"Yeah." It was a close as they could get to fulfilling what he truly desired.

As the urge to push things to an extreme consumed his thoughts, Greg finally understood his buddy's earlier words '_And just to make sure__** you**__ can't change your mind about goin' further, we won't bring anything we'd need to things safely'_. Nick had planned on teasing him with this incredibly enticing position, but making it impossible to follow through.

"So good…"

Greg remained silent as he endured the pleasurable torture of knowing an extraordinary opportunity was literally a half an inch in front of him. Besides Nick's words of warning, all that was stopping him from topping a guy he had always believed was unobtainable, was his mother's voice screaming in his head '_Promise me you'll never have unprotected sex, Gregory! Promise me! Never, ever, under any circumstances will you have sex with a guy without a condom! If you do, you'll get infected and die a horrifically painful death and I'll be wailing and sobbing at your bedside every step of the way!' _Luckily his almost-lover's increasingly loud moaning drowned out the memory of his mother's shrill lecture, and he could once again focus 100 percent of his attention on the matter in his hand.

"Don't move," Nick panted, fearing his partner might actually throw caution to the wind, or even worse – back away. "That's…" Lost in the pleasure of letting go in another man's arms, he felt alive for the first time in years.

* * *

_The shower was undeniably hot, and I'm not just talkin' about the water temperature, Steve. Greta took me places I hadn't been in a long, long time. _

_My wife and I tried to share a bath once. Our tub was really small, and I'm a bony six foot four, so it was like trying to bathe with a pretzel. She kicked me out after two minutes. And once again I'm reminded why I love listening to your life instead of mine. Keep going. _

* * *

Pulling on the navy blue Abercrombie boxer shorts he had purchased just for the trip, Greg laughed and yelled to his buddy, who was raiding the mini bar. "Yesterday I was really worked up over what I was going to wear to bed when I was sharing a room with you, so I went out and bought a bunch of new shorts."

"Yeah?" Nick twisted open a bottle of brandy.

"I never thought you'd see me naked twice before seeing me in my new shorts."

"Sure you don't want a little something before sleepin'?"

"No, I'm good." Grabbing up the stack of papers he had put on his night stand, the DNA expert said, "I want to flip through my presentation notes a few times before sleeping. I don't want to let you down tomorrow."

"You won't." After polishing off his drink, Nick sat on the edge of his buddy's bed. "You wanna run through everything out loud and have me give ya feedback?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

Nick only made the suggestion to have a reason to slip between the sheets. "Go for it." He fluffed a couple of pillows and then crashed on his back.

Five minutes into the presentation, the anxious presenter noticed his buddy was sound asleep next to him. Chuckling, he said, "Some help you are." After a few minutes of staring at the complex and vulnerable man curled up beside him, he realized the presentation had just been an excuse not to sleep alone. "The guy who always loves 'em and leaves 'em finally found a place he's comfortable staying." Running his fingers through Nick's hair he whispered, "Any time."

* * *

After a laborious yawn, Nick told his captor, "That was the best sleep I had in years." Exhaustion overtaking him, he said, "But when I woke up in Greg's arms, it felt too good, and I panicked. I told him it was fun, but I didn't want to..."

"Greg's arms?" Steve gaped at the CSI. "Told **him**?"

"That's how beat I am," Nick laughed off the slip. "I meant Greta's arms."

"Greg was the name of the guy who busted me and chased me in here."

"Yeah, I guess that's why I had his name in my…"

"The same guy who was willing to risk his life to help you until you screamed at him and begged him to leave the room." It seemed so obvious now. "That's why you reacted that way."

"I didn't want to lose another co-worker this year."

"That explains why he looked so devastated."

"Look…"

"I thought we were friends?!" Annoyed that everything had been bullshit, Steve yelled, "Some friend! You didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth!"

Sensing another lie would only make the guy more agitated, Nick replied, "I never tell **anyone**. I lie to everyone, not just you. My own **mother** doesn't even know."

* * *

**Southwest Airlines Flight 588 **

After stowing her laptop bag under the seat, Connie Sanders checked her belt one more time and then reached for the book she had stowed in her seat pocket. By the time Dan returned home from IKEA she would be well on her way to Dallas.

"Seat belt?"

Connie lifted her magazine to show the Flight Attendant that her belt was fastened.

"Hey, my mommy is a PFLAG member," Chad excitedly told the lady wearing a PFLAG pin. "Who's the special queer in your life?"

"My son," Connie smiled at the gorgeous young man. "If you're looking, he may be single after my trip to Dallas. You're employed, you're beautiful, and you look about the same age as my son."

"You and my mother would get along fabulously. She's always trying to set me up with someone. She's even bought guys tickets just to fly on my flights."

"I think you two would look great together." Connie flipped open her wallet. "Here's a picture."

Chad studied the photo. "He looks kind of familiar actually. I always remember a gorgeous smile…among other body features."

"Come talk to me after takeoff." Connie chuckled, "I'll pull out the photo album I have packed in my carry-on. There's a bunch of photos of him in wet clingy swim trunks."

"Now we're talking!" Chad laughed, "You're much better at marketing than my mommy. She thinks my baby picture will convince hot guys to go out with me. I'm like – Mom! Break out the six-pack and ass shots! I want to attract a real man!"

* * *

_I should have gone gay, then I never would have slept with Megan and got her pregnant. _

All joking between Greg and Grissom stopped the moment Nick got caught stretching the truth.

_Greg must be worried about you. _

_Yeah. I'm real worried about him too._

_But you said that you and Greta weren't together anymore. _

_We're not, but it's…it's complicated. I was actually tryin' to figure things out when you came runnin' in here earlier. I didn't hear you because I was listenin' to Greg's IPod. I'm gonna catch some serious shit for that, because we're not supposed to be distracted when workin' a scene…for very obvious reasons. _

Grissom shook his head. "I wondered why he didn't hear the guy coming."

"He borrowed it for work actually – for the song Bleeding Love, it's an element in a case – the teen girl on the football field."

_Greg files his music into playlists and when I borrowed his IPod this morning, I saw he still had the list of 'Our Songs'. It's been eight months, I figured he had erased it a while ago…but he didn't._

Grissom sighted, "He borrowed it for the case and then he got distracted by finding your special playlist?"

"I wanted him to find the playlist, that's why I gave it to him, but I didn't want him to…this is all my fault." Filling with guilt, Greg's voice cracked, "If I didn't give him the IPod this morning, none of this would be happening."

"Blaming yourself isn't going to change anything."

_What songs are on the list? _

_There's about fifty. Greg's real into music…and we had a lot of good memories, so…there's a lot of songs. _

_Where's the IPod?_

_I don't know, it went flying when you tackled me. Somewhere over there probably. _

"Uh oh, my IPod full of personal songs and emo playlists is going to be evidence."

The boss nodded. "Not to mention fodder for IAB to pin this whole thing on Nick."

_Steve, don't!_

Hearing two gunshots sent Greg running for the front door of the house.

"Greg! Wait!"

* * *

"Steve!" Nick screamed as he helplessly watched his captor drop his pistol and slide down the bedroom wall, blood oozing from his belly.

"You tricked me." Clutching his gut, Steve landed on the floor. "There's no IPod."

"No! I didn't trick you!" Nick fought to break free from the cuff restraining him to the bed. "You walked in front of the doors and someone on the outside took a shot at you! There's no way I could have told them to do that!"

"You said you were my friend." He eyed the gun on the floor and strained to reach it with his left hand while his right hand tried to stop the blood seeping from his gut.

Watching in horror as the man struggled to reach his pistol, Nick pleaded, "There really is an IPod. I didn't trick you. Please don't…please."

"You're just like everyone else," Steve winced as his fingertips grazed the handle of the gun.

"No." Nick's eyes watered. "I was tryin' to help you."

"You should have died in that coffin." The dying man stated, wrapping his hand around the pistol's grip.

"Drop the gun!" Catherine yelled as she kicked open the French doors, but not taking any chances, she chose to shoot the man dead.

"Nick!" Greg screamed as he barreled into the bedroom just in time to watch a bullet bust through the killer's head. "Shit!" He covered his eyes, but it was too late, the graphic image was already burned into his brain along with too many other ones just like it.

Catherine grabbed her radio and broadcast, "I had a clean shot and I took it. Suspect is dead. CSI Stokes is okay! Grissom, did you copy that?"

_CSI Stokes is okay._ Shaking uncontrollably, Nick couldn't imagine a less accurate statement.

"What the fuck just happened?!" Vartann frantically asked upon bolting into the room. He had taken off when he saw Greg rushing the house.

"I wasn't in the mood to lose another friend this year." Standing in front of the killer's lifeless body as it bled out onto the rug, Catherine coolly added, "I figured I might if we left things up to the Sheriff's office."

"You're goin' rogue now, Willows?" Vartann asked while holstering his pistol.

"I think I'd look really good in a black leather batgirl suit, don't you?" Grinning, she lifted her radio to listen to Grissom.

"We need to find the key for the cuffs," Greg said in a trembling voice, trying not to look at what used to be the killer's head. "Help me find the key!"

"It's probably on the DB," Vartann answered, applying logic. "In his pocket." Recognizing that Sanders was on the verge of nervous breakdown, the detective took it upon himself to grab a glove from one of the open CSI kits on the floor. "I'll look, you go check on Nick." Cringing, he dipped into the dead guy's blood soaked pants.

Kneeling in front of his trembling partner, Greg whispered, "You okay?"

"No." The traumatized CSI vehemently shook his head. "I'm sorry for what I said to you…about the coffin." Nick took a sharp breath. "I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't."

"Sanders!" Vartann tossed the keys across the room.

"Thanks." Filling with relief, Greg unlocked the cuff and started rubbing his partner's bruised wrist. "Everything's going to be okay."

Over Catherine's radio, Grissom's voice boomed, "The Sheriff has requested all involved personnel remain on site. He's waiting to hear from IAB."

"Time to play the blame game, gentlemen and lady," Vartann groaned. "And you know how fast those IAB bastards move. It's gonna be a lonnnng friggin' night." Noting Catherine was staring at what was left of the suspect, he walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"About offing him?" She droned, "I'm thrilled I got to do the honors."

"Make sure you don't tell IAB."

"Yeah." She glanced up at the detective. "How do feel lookin' at him?"

"Happy another fucktard is dead."

"Don't tell IAB."

"I never do." He nodded at Catherine. "Thanks for cleanin' up the mess I started when I gave the okay for this guy to go under the tape."

"I'm sure Riley would have done the same for you." Rolling her eyes, she strolled over to check on the boys. "I wanted to give you guys a couple of minutes. You okay, Nicky?"

Feeling sick over the way things went down, Nick replied, "You didn't have to kill 'em, Cath. I had convinced him to give himself up."

"Gee, I was hoping for something more like 'thanks, for saving my ass'." Stuffing her hands on her hips she lectured her far too compassionate friend, "That guy sliced open two people this morning, one of them was the mother of his niece and nephew. He was a ticking bomb waiting to go off again and you were trapped in a room with him."

"He was messed up. He needed help…"

"Give it up, Nicky!" Her emotions caught her off guard and she started yelling, "Some people **deserve **a bullet in the head, but you're not one of them and neither was Warrick! I was too late to save him, but I wasn't about to stand out there and let you die playing savior to some guy who didn't deserve a second chance! Today the good guys won and the bad guy got his brains blown out! You should be **happy** it worked out the right way for a change." Huffing for the door, she yelled, "You're welcome!"

* * *

**ANs: **

The hostage situation is over, but the drama isn't : ) And the Pittsburgh story will still be told.

Thanks for your comments on the last chapter! And for reading of course.

The next chapter won't be out until the beginning of next week.

Thanks and have a great weekend!!

Maggs


	13. Chapter 13

**Bleeding Love – Part 13**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

When Vartann saw Nick's was still sitting against the bed shaking, he took pity on him and said, "I'll tell the uniforms you guys need another five minutes inside, okay? Cavaliere is on his way here to take over the scene and wait for CSI Day shift to send a new crew. Once he gets here, we'll need to do things by the book, because we're not exactly buddies and he's locked horns with you guys on more than one occasion. He's probably hoping to help IAB nail us to the wall."

"Five minutes," Greg replied as he nodded at the detective. "Thanks."

Once they were alone, Nick released the tears he had been holding back. "He was gonna walk out of here with me. He just needed someone to talk to first. That's what I was doin' this whole time – tellin' him stories, makin' him feel like we were buddies. After I while, I got tired and wasn't thinkin'…I told him about your IPod and didn't think to warn him about walkin' in front of the French doors until it was too late."

Just as Greg was about to tell his partner that he had overheard everything, his cell phone rang. "It's Grissom," he stated looking at the ID display. "Yeah, Griss?" he answered.

"_I need you back here." _

"I'm a little busy helping Ni..."

"_Now! And bring Nick with you." _

"Okay, we'll be right there."

Wiping the dampness from his cheeks, the exhausted man announced, "I'm really tired."

Helping his buddy to his feet, Greg said, "You clocked in eighteen hours ago, so it's not…"

"No." Nick shook his head. "I'm tired of everything...I'm done with this fucking job, with Vegas…I'm exhausted from lyin' to everyone…I just wanna get away from here, from everything…everything but you, G. I was listenin' to your IPod when Steve came barrelin' in here, that's why I didn't hear him. I was listenin' to Don't Panic and…."

"Wait! Where's the IPod? We're not leaving it here so they can find it and blame this mess on you." Greg scanned the room until he saw it peeking out from underneath the long silk drapes framing the French doors. After making sure no one was watching, he slipped the IPod into his pocket. "Let's go."

* * *

After hearing three of his CSIs and Vartann coming through loud and clear on the surveillance equipment, Grissom knew he had a problem. "Find the IPod, Greg?" the concerned supervisor quizzed upon seeing his employees. "I'm glad you're okay, Nicky."

"Thanks," the dazed CSI robotically replied.

"How did you know I swiped the…" When Greg saw his boss pointing at the surveillance case, he panicked, "We've been recording the whole time." They had wanted everything taped in case the worst happened, but now that it hadn't, he didn't want anyone to know what occurred in the house. "That's not good."

"No, it's not," Grissom huffed, "besides you breaking protocol to put the transmitter in the house in the first place and Vartann breaking protocol to let you, we were recording Nick the entire time, and he said a few things I think we really can't afford IAB to hear. I can't decide if the cherry on their sundae will be you yelling that you need to find the IPod to cover for Nick's mistake or Catherine and Vartann's little heart to heart – when they admitted they mutually enjoy shooting criminals instead of incarcerating them, and then laughing over how they can't tell IAB that little detail. How many wrongful death lawsuits would that spark?"

Feeling ten steps behind, Nick cleared his throat and asked, "What are you guys talkin' about?" When he saw the two men exchange odd looks, he pressed, "What's goin' on?"

"I um…" Suddenly feeling like a voyeur, Greg said, "I panicked when the guy cut off communication, so I snuck into the house and hooked up a surveillance recording device to hear what was going on in there. Grissom and I have been monitoring the live feed, but no one else heard…yet."

"I can't believe you…" Nick locked his eyes on Greg's. "You didn't know where the guy was when you went in there. You could've been shot the second you stepped through the front door."

"What was I suppose to do? Just stand here and hope you were still alive."

"Stop." Grissom stepped between the two men. "We have a problem on that needs to be fixed before any emotions can be purged." He pointed to the surveillance equipment. "We need to erase that recording and make sure not even someone of Archie's talents can recover the data. Greg, you're the only one who is familiar with it."

Surprised to hear his boss suggest that they should destroy evidence, Greg said, "You really want me to purge the data?"

"No," Grissom replied, "I want you to tell me how, so I can, and then I want the two of you to get out of here and turn your phones off. I'll handle the Sheriff and IAB for you, because the last time there was a problem they kept us waiting for nine hours and you're both too worn-out to deal with them period."

Not wanting his boss to get in trouble when he wasn't even at the scene when everything went down, Nick asked, "Won't you catch heat for that?"

"I certainly hope so." The burnt out supervisor waved away his employees. "But just to make sure I do – go take the next three nights off to recover from the duress. I don't wan to see you at the lab, understand? I'll tell the Sheriff if Tactical had shown up on time I wouldn't have needed to give my team stress leave."

* * *

"I'm getting three nights off with pay," Catherine cheerily informed Vartann, who was pacing the tape.

"Really? I just got chewed out over the phone by the Sheriff."

"I think I'm going to check into the Bellagio to spend some of my hard earned money on hedonism."

"Lucky you." The detective grumbled, "I'm suspended without pay until they decide if I made a grave error in judgment because I'm overworked, or if I'm just a lazy son of bitch who stupidly gave the okay for a double-murderer to trot under the tape and ultimately take a CSI hostage." Lowering his voice, he said, "This next part is a direct quote, but don't you dare repeat it. The Sheriff yells, 'That guy almost offed Stokes, a CSI who is a fucking legend for surviving that coffin bullshit. My voters love Stokes because he saved that little creepy little girl everyone thought was as dead as her pot-growing parents! At least if it was Sanders at least the blacks wouldn't be calling my office bitching!' Nice, huh? My boss is a moron and a racist, actually now that I think about it you can't really be one without the other."

"Technically a person can be a moron and not be racist, but I haven't met one."

"Whatever." Vartann stuffed his cell phone in his pocket. "I'm outta here."

"Hey, would you mind giving me a lift home? Grissom needs the supplies from my Denali and…"

"Sure, come on." He waved her to follow him down the street. "I apologize in advance…my car's a mess."

* * *

When they reached the front door, Greg paused before inserting the key. "Uh…I just want to warn you, the house isn't exactly up to Stokes neatness standards."

"After the day I've had, you think I'm gonna care if there are dishes in the sink?"

As he turned the key, Greg cringed, "It's a little bit worse than dishes in the sink." Opening the door he explained, "My therapist says the mess is an expression of my anger toward you, since you hate messes and the house is still half yours." Since the Nevada housing market was the worst in the country, they had no choice but to hold onto their real estate investment until the economy recovered.

Surveying what used to be a very relaxing great-room, Nick remarked, "What happened to our couch?"

Closing and locking the front door, Greg anxiously said, "It's under my clothes and blankets, and…stuff."

"Stuff like empty Corona bottles and a pizza box?"

"I've been doing a lot of writing out here."

Nick barely recognized his own home. "If your therapist is right about the mess being an expression of your anger, you must really hate me." Meeting his partner's eyes, he vulnerably asked, "Do you?"

"No. If I hated you, my life would be far less complicated." When Nick reached to touch him, Greg stepped back. "We need to talk about the elephant in the room."

Fearing what was going to be said, Nick replied with nervous laughter, "Is the elephant hidin' under your laundry pile or behind those stacks of books?"

Remembering his mother's words, Greg tossed his keys on the entry table covered in empty coffee cups and summoned up the strength to speak the truth. "I'm glad you're here because I wouldn't want you to be alone after what just happened, but we can't jump back on the rollercoaster again just because one of us almost died. That's how we got back together the last two times and look how badly that turned out."

"G…"

"No, we need to refresh our memories. Here's how it works - first we find some place private." Greg raised his hands. "Here we are. Then we hug to comfort each other – which you just tried to do. Then we start talking with our hearts and not our heads, which turns into us kissing our way into the bedroom and out of our clothes while we wonder how we could have survived without each other. All of which makes for a spectacular movie ending before a Hollywood fade-to-black, but we live in reality, and the reality is, six months later you'll freak about something petty and use it as an excuse to walk out the door and not come back until one of us almost dies again. Face it, Tex - if we were Accountants in a quaint New England village instead of CSIs in a violent city, we never would have gotten back together after the first break."

"G, please let me…"

"Did you know Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting to see a different result? If nothing changes, we'll get the same unhappy ending." Trying not to cave in, Greg glanced away. "Einstein was right. Admit it."

"Okay." Nick nodded. "I'll admit that if nothing changes, then nothing will be different this time."

"Thank you." Depressed by their sad reality, but relieved he had the guts to do what was best, Greg took a deep breath and said what his therapist would want to hear, "I think that's healthy progress…a step toward closure. From here on out, we'll support each other as friends who care, but don't touch each other." On his way to the kitchen, he spoke in a shaky voice, "The guest bedroom is spotless, because my mom stays there and always cleans it on the last day of her visit, so if you want to take a shower while I make breakfast, use the one in there. My clean clothes are piled in the laundry room, grab whatever you want. If there's anything else you need, just help yourself."

Without a word, Nick headed for the hall that led to the bedrooms.

Greg sighed as he opened the fridge. "My mommy would be so proud of me." He reached for a carton of eggs and used it to hold a package of ham, a container of mushrooms, a block of Swiss cheese, and a stick of butter.

"Hey, G!" Nick called out as he rushed into the kitchen.

"Yeah?" Cradling all the food in his arms, Greg shut the fridge with his foot.

Standing with his hands in the pockets of his faded black jeans, Nick asked, "Why isn't the master bedroom a mess like the great-room?"

Setting the food on the counter, the lonely ex-partner told the truth. "I don't like spending time in there, because it makes me miss you." He grabbed a mixing bowl and popped open the carton of eggs. "I come home and plop down on the couch with my laptop, eat, drink, and then zone out writing or watching TV. Eventually I pass out until my watch alarm goes off and tells me it's time for my shift. I get up, make coffee, toss my clothes in the pile, trudge into the shower, jack off if I'm up for it, and then get dressed for work and start the whole mundane cycle all over again."

"You said if there was anything else I needed, I could have it, right?"

"Yeah."

"I need you," the desperate man announced.

While his heart craved a romantic reunion, Greg's logical brain forced him to speak. "See, this is why we shouldn't be together right now, we're both too emotional over what happened at the scene and we're going to attribute those feelings to…"

"Please just listen to me for a minute." Nick took a step closer. "I had your IPod on **before** Steve got there, you know that, you heard me say it when I was in the house…and I said it when I didn't know you could hear me, so you know it's true. I was listenin' to **our songs, **to Don't Panic**,** and thinkin' about how I wish I could just get over the shit in my head and be the guy you deserve instead of the guy who panics and runs out the door. Talkin' to Steve and tellin' the Pittsburgh story, all I could see was how good we were together right from the start. That week in Pittsburgh was the memory I was relivin' in case he killed me. I wanted my last thoughts to be of us when we were happy and just startin' out…before I fucked anything up." His eyes watering, he begged, "You said if nothing changes, then everything will be the same, but what if things change? What if **I** make changes? What if I go to therapy? I'm too scared to go alone, but if I went with you, I could do it. I could if it meant you givin' me another chance."

Knowing how terrified his partner was of therapists since his nightmare conversion camp experience, Greg felt a glimmer of hope. "You would really…"

"Yes," he gulped, "I'll do anything it takes. Anything. I'll even tell my family if you'll come with me. We can catch the first flight out in the morning and be sittin' in my parents' living room by noon."

"You're willing to tell your parents to prove to me you're serious about things changing?"

"Yes. I'm hopin' those two promises and this one will get me one last chance." When he pulled his hands out of pockets, Nick held up the ring box that he had found exactly where they had stored it in Greg's dresser drawer. "I know we missed our window of opportunity for a marriage in California, but there are at least a dozen chapels here in Vegas that do commitment ceremonies. It won't legally change anything between us, but in my head it would still mean that in good times or bad, we're forever. No turnin' back. No one walks out the door." Taking his lover's hand, he flashed a jittery smile. "Will you marry me? Today. Right now? Please say yes."

"No," Greg replied without hesitation.

"No?" Nick's hopes and heart sank.

"No, because my mommy would kill me if we got hitched without her planning the whole thing." The thrilled groom-to-be burst into a grin

"You mean?"

"Yes! **Wait!**" Greg stopped Nick as he lurched forward for a hug. "Only after you do the other two things you promised to do – therapy and coming out to your family."

"Deal."

"And I want to wait and marry you in California when Prop 8 gets tossed, because I want a marriage license and real ceremony, not a thousand dollar Elvis-endorsed faux certificate and souvenir shot glasses."

"I kinda wanted to be wearin' rings when we go to Dallas." He shook his head. "Who am I kidding? It's not gonna make a difference to them, we'll be sinners just the same."

"It's not like we can wear the rings to work anyway."

"I realized today that I have been tellin' people lies about my personal life for two decades, so if it's okay with you, I say we come out at work…assuming we still have jobs after today."

Ecstatic at the prospect, Greg excitedly suggested, "We could do what my parents' friends Gary and Tim did - wear the rings on the right to symbolize commitment and then move them to the left on our wedding day." He plucked Nick's ring from the box. "If you panic again before the big day, I want you to look at this ring on your finger, take a deep breath, and remind yourself that the commitment is already there and that I love you." After slipping the etched platinum band on his partner's right hand, Greg kissed it. "If you ever give this ring back, it's because you want me out of your life forever."

"Understood." With trembling fingers, Nick pulled out the remaining band. "Thank you for trusting me when you have every reason not to." He gently pushed the ring into place. "And thank you for caring about me, even when I didn't want you to care." He brushed a kiss over Greg's hand. "No matter what I said or did, I've never stopped lovin' you."

Overwhelmed by the shocking events of the day, Greg announced, "I'm up for that reunion hug now."

Not wanting to waste another second apart, they threw their arms around each other and closed their eyes. Clasping each other tight, they remained silent for several minutes, enjoying the sounds of their hearts hammering and their lungs filling with gasps of relief.

"I missed you so much," Greg finally admitted in a tearful whisper.

"I wanted to say I was sorry a million times." Nick rhythmically stroked his lover's hair. "Life with you is the best life I've ever had, and to say livin' with you was worse than bein' in that…"

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I didn't." Swamped with feelings he'd kept bottled inside, Nick choked out, "We were so happy. We were plannin' the wedding with your Mom and talkin' about gettin' the dog we've always wanted…then 'Rick died and somethin' snapped. I pushed you away when I needed you the most. It didn't make any sense…it still doesn't. G, I desperately wanted that life we were plannin', but I couldn't stop myself from ruinin' everything."

"It's okay," Greg soothed, running his hands over the back of Nick's shirt.

"It doesn't even feel like me when I'm pushin' you away, it's like someone has a hand over my mouth and I'm hearin' my voice, but it's really someone else sayin' the words. It's like bein' back in that box screamin' help when no one could hear me. What if there's somethin' really wrong with my head?"

"We're getting help and we'll work it out."

Remembering the devastation he had caused eight months ago, Nick strengthened his embrace. "I don't want to say nasty shit and hurt you again. I don't want to cause your family any more stress either. They treated me like one of their own and I thank them by tearin' your heart out and wastin' their time and money on a wedding that never happened."

"My family wants me to be happy and they know I'm happiest when I'm with you." Greg confidently said, "It'll work out this time. You just admitted you have some serious issues that need to be addressed. That's huge. You've never said that out loud before and you've never agreed to get help or come out to your family. We'll talk through the issues with Dr. Myers, who I swear on my mother's life, is a very ethical and professional therapist, not to mention a super cool lady. After things settle down and you're feeling more confident, then we'll go to Dallas and talk to your family together." He cupped his partner's face. "One step at a time, with me there every step of the way."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Brushing tears from Nick's face, he tenderly asked, "Do you still want breakfast?"

"Yeah," Nick sniffled, "got any Jack Daniels?"

"Plenty."

"Have you cleaned the Jacuzzi tub since I left?"

"No, but I haven't used it since either, so the only mess you'll find is dust."

Trying desperately to lighten the mood, Nick asked, "Wanna hop in there and drink Redneck-style with me?"

"I think getting naked and drinking straight from the bottle sounds like the perfect way to celebrate our re-engagement."

"Good, 'cause I stink from sweatin' buckets today."

"Yeah." Relieved that they were moving to levity, Greg smiled. "I noticed your stench when we hugged. Our breath reeks too, that's why I decided to postpone our always spectacular reunion kissing until we've brushed…or killed the germs and overpowered the odor with JD." Chuckling, he flipped open the pantry door and grabbed a bottle of Jack. "I just stocked up this weekend."

Seeing four large bottles on the shelf, the Texan said, "Holy shit, I really did drive you to drink."

"Nah, it was on sale and it's almost the holiday season, which means work will be getting even more stressful."

"Yeah, our domestic violence cases are about to triple. Right now, somewhere in this city there's a nutcase who will beat his wife over a burnt turkey on Thanksgiving and a few weeks later, the bastard will try to shoot his whole family on Christmas Eve."

"Ooh!"

"What?"

"Hearing you talk about domestic violence just reminded me to call my family." Handing over the bottle, Greg lunged into his pocket for his cell phone. "I need to tell them you didn't get shot by the psycho."

Twisting open the bottle, Nick sighed, "I bet your mom's gonna be reeeeal disappointed."

"She only meant half of what she said on those nasty voicemails she left you."

"Really? 'Cause she sounded pretty convincing when she said she'd slice off my balls if I ever kissed you again." Tilting the bottle, the almost-son-in-law chugged some of Tennessee's finest and hoped Connie wouldn't hunt him down and kill him upon hearing he survived. "Are ya gonna tell her we're wearin' rings?" he asked after wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"And miss the priceless look on her face when we show up on her doorstep flaunting them? No way!" After taking a lengthy swig from the Tennessee whiskey bottle, Greg laughed, "Let's drive out there tomorrow. 'We'll set Connie into a tailspin, and then go to our favorite beach hideaway with some blankets and chill out watching the waves and the sunset."

"While your mother sits at home and plots how she's gonna get rid of me for good?"

* * *

When the sexy gay flight attendant returned to chat, Connie opened the photo album she had brought to show Jillian Stokes. "Don't worry about the guy with my son in some of the photos, they broke up…sort of."

One look at the couple wearing LVPD t-shirts fired Chad's long-term memory. "Nick and Greg from LVPD! I **knew** I recognized your son's smile."

"You know them?"

"I used to work the Vegas to Pittsburgh route and met them when they were going to a Forensics convention. We traded numbers and met up at a club on my layover night." He laughed at the memory. "I meet a lot of forgettable guys and go to a lot of forgettable clubs, but those two were so adorably dysfunctional and that night so hilarious, I remember it well."

"Tell me everything," Connie insisted.

"Eww! No way, Mama Bear. I can't talk about your 24 year old virgin son's desperate search for a cherry poppin' stud." Chad riotously laughed, "Who am I kidding? Of course I will!"

* * *

**ANs: **

Among other things, we get to see the action at Sparx from Chad's point of view in the next chapter.

Answering a couple of questions I just got...

Yes, Dr. Myers is the same Dr. Myers, so you know the boys are in good hands.

If the Nick and Greg reuniting seemed too fast/too easy, that was the intention. Greg outlined how their reunions went every time, and the problem has always been that they reunited really fast under duress and without thinking. This time Nick was even bothering trying to get somehwere private, he was trying to reunite right at the crime scene. Greg, try as he might to resist the easy reunion opportunity, never wanted to break up in the first place and has been living like a hermit, so it's surprising he held out as long as he did. Once Nick agreed to do the two things Greg's been pushing him to do for years - get help and come out to his family, he was thrilled and done resisting. The other reason they reunite so quickly is that they never *really* break up in the traditional sense that they're apart from each other, out of love with each other, and actively trying to see other people. It's more like they have reeeeeally long arguments.

I hope everyone had a good weekend!

Thanks for your comments on the last chapter. I've answered a few questions and will get to more soon!

**Maggs**


	14. Chapter 14

**Bleeding Love – Part 14**

Written By: Ms Maggs

**AN:** There are flashbacks in this chapter that show what happened before and during Chapter 5 as well as some pieces of the flashback in Chapter 5 in case anything seems familiar.

**Southwest Airlines Flight 588 **

On his fifteen minute break, Chad invited Connie to join him in the crew space, so they would have some privacy.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, Connie laughed, "I hope people don't think I'm back here getting naughty with you."

"Anyone who saw me swish down the aisle will know you're not my type."

"Okay, tell me everything!"

"Nick called me to say he wanted to hook up at Sparx. He told me that he'd be bringin' Greg with him, but they weren't together and Greg would be busy looking for a Brian Kinney wannabe to fulfill some silly Liberty Avenue fantasy."

"I wouldn't let Brian Kinney anywhere near my son!"

"Yeah, well, that's what Justin's mom said, but that only made him want him more now didn't it?" Chad chuckled, "Every good boy with an overprotective mommy eventually goes looking for a bad boy to rock his world. It's your fault he was looking for a Mr. Wrong that night."

"You sound just like my father," Connie huffed. "He thinks Greg's gay because I didn't let the boy play hockey."

"Ha!" Chad jotted down his email address. "Email me when you get home and ask me to send a few of my hockey photos. I went to the conference championships two years in a row."

Connie had every intention of taking the young man up on his offer and proving her father wrong.

"Okay, so we meet at the club as planned and I was pretty surprised to see your son rating a nine on the twink-meter, because he didn't give off that vibe on the plane. Then I found out Nick had helped him with his look. He had trolled enough gay bars and knew just how to serve up Greggy on a silver platter to the horny masses. Guys could smell the cherry on him from a mile away and we weren't there five minutes before this lounge lizard locked his peepers on your son's backdoor. Let me know if I'm being too graphic."

"You're being too graphic."

Chad laughed, "Sorry. So I'm standing at the bar having a drink with Nick when The Lizard makes his move and wisks Greggy off to the dance floor. The next thing I know, Nick's eyes are popping out his head and turning green. I called him on it, because I wanted to get laid and couldn't waste precious time with a guy who's using me to make someone else jealous. He was shocked I busted him and totally copped to wanting Greg for himself, and not just for sex, he was head over heels. He said it was awkward because they were co-workers, and he didn't feel comfortable doing the asking, because he was in a higher position at the lab and Greg really looked up to him. He was afraid that Greg would feel pressured to say yes even if he didn't want to."

"That was very thoughtful of him."

"Yeah, I thought so too, so I decided to put off my own needs for an hour and help Nick get your boy in the sack."

"So I have you to thank for the years of misery I've endured?" Connie narrowed her gaze. "How can I toss you out at 30,000 feet without endangering anyone else on board the aircraft?"

"You can't!" Chad replied with his most adorable smile. "I was in Pittsburgh every week so I knew a lot of guys at the club. I called my friend Gary over and asked him to scare off The Lounge Lizard, which also scared the crap out of Greg, because Gary had a boatload of piercings. When Nick saw Greg's reaction, he got this brilliant idea to keep sending a new scary guy to bounce the current scary guy until Greg was so unnerved by the bar scene that he'd beg Nick to take him back to the hotel and do the honors himself."

"I'm assuming the planned worked, because Greg came back from the conference a different man."

"Yep, after my pal Seymour, who goes by the name Leatherman, told Greg he was packing nine inches and planned on sharing all nine with him for hours, Greg was offering up his virginity to the cowboy. The last thing I remember seeing was Nick backing your boy up against a wall and kissing him like he just found out the world was going to end in two minutes." Sighing, he said, "I'm still looking for a guy who will kiss me like that."

"The cowboy may be a phenomenal kisser, but it hardly makes up for his quirks. You're better off finding a nice boy without baggage." Connie grumbled, "I wonder how life would have turned out if the Lounge Lizard had been successful?"

"Your sweet little boy would have gotten a nasty case of crabs."

* * *

"Nana Olaf said she'll make you Seafood Bisque for dinner," Greg announced when he strolled into the master bathroom. "Sorry that phone call took so long, they had a lot of questions. Everyone's really relieved you're okay, and that we're okay again."

"Mmm, Nana's seafood bisque." Relaxing in the luxurious two-person Jacuzzi tub that had convinced them to buy the house, Nick smiled. "Now we're definitely drivin' out there tomorrow. I'm glad they still want to see me after I backed out of the wedding." Then he remembered Connie's angry words. "Wait…what did your mom say when she heard the news?"

"She's on a flight to San Francisco, so I couldn't talk to her. My dad didn't even know she was going there. When he came home from IKEA, he found a note saying she was going there to join forces with a Prop 8 opposition group. He doesn't how long she'll be gone." After shutting off his cell phone, Greg tossed it on the counter and started shedding his clothes.

"Your mom probably isn't on her way to San Francisco," Nick half-joked. "She's probably on her way here to make good on her threat and slice off my balls for kissin' you again."

"Technically your balls are still safe, because we haven't kissed yet." Stepping into the steaming water, Greg shivered with anticipation. "I like the delayed gratification approach we're taking this time." He swiped the Jack Daniels bottle out of his partner's hand and grinned.

"Me too," Nick dreamily replied while his eyes got intimately reacquainted with his lover's enticing body. "Not that I didn't enjoy the old version of exchangin' I love yous and bein' done with the first round of reunion sex fifteen minutes later."

"We're both in our 30s now, so a more mature approach is fitting. Okay, honestly, I was too stressed…at least I'm hoping that's why I couldn't get it up."

"The last two times we couldn't have our private reunion until a while after the initial trauma. This time we only had an hour in between one of us almost dying and us reuniting. Our brains are still too overtaxed to re-route critical blood flow."

"That's true, I didn't think of that." Greg's lips curved into a smile. "Thanks, I feel better about not rising to the occasion." After a mutual chuckle and another round of whiskey gulps, he reclined against his backrest, facing Nick. "But I won't be stressed for long thanks to that hillbilly swill and our Fuzion Dual Zone spa bath, which I love almost as much as I love you."

"I can't believe you didn't use it this whole time." Nick reclaimed the whiskey. "We bought this place for two reasons: this tub and the big shady backyard for the dog we planned to get."

"I tried, but I couldn't do it. This tub is memory-central. Besides all the naughty goodness that's taken place in, on, and around it, we've laughed, cried, solved cases, and dreamed of our future together in this six foot rectangle of pure bliss. It wouldn't have been relaxing to be in here when I was lonely and depressed, it would have been torture." Slipping his foot into Nick's tub zone, he poked him. "But you're here now and all is right in the world again."

"It feels great to be home." While caressing his partner's leg, Nick handed over the bottle. "It's like we never broke up."

"Did we? The definition of breaking up is not seeing each other, moving on, and hooking up with other people, right? We saw each other at work every day, and I didn't touch anyone else." With a drop of insecurity in his voice, Greg asked, "Were you with anyone this time?" Waiting for an answer, he took a gulp of JD.

"No." Nick shook his head. The first time they had broken up, he had gone on a topping spree to convince himself he wasn't the commitment type. The second time, he got as far as letting an anonymous girl undo his zipper, but didn't go through with it. "Never even considered it."

"Good, because I would have been jealous as hell." His joy returning, Greg chuckled, "And it would have been a vibe-breaker if I had to get out of this tub, get dressed, and run down the street to CVS to buy condoms while obsessing over you being with someone else and cursing you for making us go through another window period and testing cycle again."

"Monogamy is simplicity."

"Since we're so good at monogamy, maybe we should get married." Greg flashed his ring. "Oops, that's right, we already are."

"This morning we were separated, but now we're engaged. We really do get our shit together quickly, don't we?" Nick laughed and snatched the bottle. "I guess that means we probably weren't technically broken up. It was like we had a really long argument with me sleepin' on the couch."

"Just not a couch under the same roof." After stealing back the whiskey, Greg remarked, "Maybe it's a job related relationship consequence, because Sara and Grissom have the same kind of ridiculous marathon separations when it's obvious they still love each other."

"At least we're not as screwed up as them." When Nick saw his partner's reaction he said, "Okay, but at least we stay in the same city when we're apart."

The word 'apart' making him bristle, Greg reached out. "You're too far away."

Starving for affection, Nick jumped at the invitation to lounge in his lover's arms.

"That's better."

"Much." His back pressed against his partner's chest, and their arms entwined, Nick felt a peace he hadn't known in eight long months.

"You should have seen my face when I heard you say the Pittsburgh trip was your favorite date."

"I hadn't thought about that trip in years, but it was the first thing that popped into my head when he asked me to talk about the date I'd want to relive before I died." The word 'died' made him tense up.

"You're safe now." Greg whispered into Nick' ear when he felt his body tense. "While we're waiting for the whiskey and the whirlpool to work their magic, how about we relax talking about the rest of that story?"

"Where should we start?"

Grinning wildly, Greg asked to skip ahead to his favorite part, "How about right before I choked. I'll start."

"This should be good."

"After my nervous breakdown over Leatherman, you took pity on me and agreed to do the honors. To make it hotter, you suggested we do a little role playing, as opposed to approaching it from a 'buddies helpin' each other out' angle." Greg pressed a kiss to his partner's cheek. "You told me to go outside and wait for you to come out of the club."

"I cruised you like the Brian-wannabe you were hopin' to lose it to and you played the part of the nervous younger man really well."

"Only because I wasn't acting."

"I kept tryin' to stay in character, but failing every time my real feelings started to show, which made me seem like an escaped mental patient..."

_Afraid he had made another faux-pas, Greg squeaked, "Is everything okay?" _

"_Everything's perfect." Brushing his thumb over the flushed face before him, Nick momentarily dropped his guard and shared exactly what he was thinking, "I just want you to know that I'm havin' the best time I've had in a long time. I've enjoyed everything leadin' up to this moment - the cab ride from hell, all the stuff we talked about on the plane, you makin' me laugh whenever I got bored at the conference. Seriously, even all the little annoying stuff you do, like not puttin' the caps back on the hotel shampoo and conditioner, isn't bothering me like it normally would."_

"_Why put the caps back on hotel shampoo and conditioner when housekeeping is just going to throw…"_

"_First you interrupt my role play seduction and now you're breaking the flow of my…"_

"_Your what?"_

"_Uhh..." Nick flustered, "Anyway, my point is…I'm havin' a great time with you. So, please remember that if I say somethin' different when I'm sober, or when we get back to Vegas, or if I turn into an insufferable prick out of the blue…it won't be your fault."_

Greg laughed, "I was totally confused and yet too drunk, naked, and desperately hot for you to demand a coherent explanation.

"That's really the only explanation for you not runnin' from the room to find someone normal. But I finally chilled out when you started rockin' my world while that crazy flower song played."

"Flowers Become Screens." Greg laughed at the memory. "Also known as the song during which I choked and nearly died of embarrassment."

"_Admit it, you like this song."_

"_You know what else I really like?" Nick moaned with relief when Greg dropped to his knees. "Yeah…mmm…somethin' tells me you've done this once or twice…or a lot." _

"But you didn't know all my knowledge had come from my best gal pal, Becca **verbally **sharing what she learned at sleepaway camp."

"And you forgot to mention that you had an overly sensitive gag reflex." Nick shook with laughter as he recalled the spectacle for the first time in years. "When I opened my eyes and saw you – it looked like you had just swallowed battery acid." He laughed harder. "And when you finally could talk, you looked up at me with pathetic puppy dog eyes and whimpered somethin' like…

"_I just killed the vibe again, didn't I?" Greg's mortification doubled with each passing second. _

"_Uh…if it makes you feel better, it was totally hot until you started violently gagging." _

"_Sorry, I've had a lot of practice, but never with a person." _

_Nick froze in horror. "Um…what exactly have you been blowin', G? Please don't tell me a sheep, because there was a guy back home and one night we caught him..." _

"_Popsicles! Not animals! Popsicles!" Greg frantically yelled, before sharing the rest of the story. "My friend Becca went to this posh all-girls summer camp and every Friday was popsicle night. It was a rite of passage for the junior counselors to demonstrate their oral wisdom on popsicles for the senior campers. Then the senior campers spent all summer trying to sneak off and try out their newly acquired knowledge with the boys from the camp across the lake. Becca was always too afraid of getting caught, so she never got to tell me about the real deal." _

"_You got that good just from workin' over popsicles?" _

"_And the occasional banana, but food doesn't explode without warning, so…" He lowered his head. "I should have left the club with Leatherman, at least I wouldn't have to see him again after embarrassing myself." _

_Overcome with guilt, Nick somberly confessed, "Leatherman wasn't goin' anywhere with you, neither were any of the other guys who came onto you." _

"_Because I'm a dork, right?" Greg mumbled, still staring at the floor. "I really feel ridiculous enough without you…"_

"_No, because they were all friends of Chad's who were told to freak you out but not kiss you or leave with you, because…" Nick froze. "Shit."_

_Confused for the tenth time in an hour, Greg glanced up and asked, "Because why?" He pushed. "Could you just be honest with me?!" _

"_Because__** I**__ wanted to leave with you and didn't have the balls to look you in the eyes and be honest about how I really felt." Freed by the truth, Nick decided to keep talking. "I've had feelings for you for a while, but never considered acting on them because we work together and because I haven't had feelings like this since...college. It's been a little tough acceptin' that I could actually have those kind of feelings for someone else, but after you helped me with the cabbie and listened to me on the plane, it just felt right." After a deep breath, he continued, "Then the other day when I woke up in your arms just like I used to wake up in his…I freaked. That's why I said I wanted to go back to bein' just buddies." _

"_But tonight you were being my buddy - picking out my clothes, telling me how to land the right guy, and encouraging me to score, so when did everything change again?" _

"_It never really did, I was just bluffing. Between keepin' my secrets and livin' in Vegas, I've become a damn good bluffer." Nick stuffed his hands on his hips. "Everything I was sayin' was bullshit to throw you off my trail. The truth is, there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I was gonna let you spend the night with someone else. It was gonna be me all along, and to keep you from figurin' that out, I lied to you and played with your head. I used Chad's friends to make you feel anxious, dorky, and terrified, so you would fall into my arms and beg me to take you home."_

_Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Greg ran his fingers through his rumpled hair, and tried to figure out what he was feeling. "You did all that because you wanted to be the first guy to screw me?" _

"_Look, I know it was a completely pathetic and shitty thing to do, but I only did it because I couldn't tell you the truth, hell I couldn't even admit it to myself until now." _

_After a full minute of gaping, Greg replied, "I can't decide if I'm pissed at you for making me feel like a loser all night, or thrilled that you sort of just told me you're in love for the first time in a decade. That is what you were trying to say, right?" _

"_I wouldn't say…I mean I guess you could..." Nick pushed past his fears and blurted, "I was losing my mind in that club every time you looked at someone else. The only other time I've ever felt that way was when I was with Wade, and since I know I loved him, I guess the answer to your question is…yes." The significance of the admission shaking him, he quietly said, "Please don't make me talk about how I feel anymore." _

_Trying to alleviate some tension, Greg joked, "You're as good at confessing your feelings as I am at swallowing, but we both had good intentions and that's what counts." When he received a smile in return, he added, "We'll both improve with time." _

Nick shook his head at the memory, "Your skills improved dramatically in five days, but it's obvious I still have moments where I suck at sayin' what I really feel."

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Feeling the love and a nice whiskey buzz, Greg teased, "I'm a genius and you're a jock, so of course you need more time to perfect things."

"Ouch." Nick turned his head to pout.

"Aww. Want me to kiss you and make it all better?"

"Yeah." Nick abruptly stood and stepped out of the tub. "But let's go to bed and not rush things."

Greg winked. "Like the first time."

"_Doin' okay?" Nick asked, pressing his lips between his lover's shoulder blades. _

"_Um…" As much as he hated sounding like an inexperienced dork for the hundredth time that night, Greg lifted his head off the pillow and nervously asked, "Could you… um…maybe go a little slower?" _

"_Yeah, of course," the experienced man agreed, though short of not moving at all, he couldn't imagine the pace getting any slower. After another kiss to the first-timer's shoulder, he whispered in his ear, "You're too tense." Even though he had spent a lot of quality time up front to make things as pleasant as possible, he was starting to think he should have done more. "Try to relax."_

_Greg nodded, though he couldn't imagine how he'd manage it. While everything they had done since the airplane bathroom up until the big moment had felt spectacular, the actual act was surprisingly disappointing. His thoughts turning to Brian and Justin's first time, he wondered if the problem was that things weren't fast enough. Maybe tenderness was a turn-off for him and the real pleasure would come only after things got heated. "Uh…actually…maybe faster would be better…because I think I'm overthinking things and maybe if I was too overwhelmed to think, I could relax. Like really go for it."_

_Nick tugged his partner up on all fours and fulfilled the request. _

"_No, slower was definitely better!" Greg exclaimed, regretting his request almost instantly. "Can we try facing each other?" He thought maybe the lack of eye contact and intimacy was making it unenjoyable._

"_We can try anything you want, honey." While seriously doubting the more challenging position would make things better, Nick made the transition with sensitivity and loving smile. "Better?"_

"_Uh… I think it will be...soon." Truthfully, it was the worst of all the scenarios so far. _

_After a few more minutes of awkward and awful slow-motion sex, Nick blurted, "I promise you're not gonna insult me if you say you're uncomfortable and ask me to stop."_

"_Why? Do I look uncomfortable?" Greg winced and twisted the bedding while waiting for an answer._

"_You look like you're gettin' a root canal without Novocain." _

"_I guess I'm not as good at bluffing as you." _

_After a kiss, the merciful top said, "Okay, Sweet Cheeks, I'm sayin' stop for you." He retreated slowly. "Please don't worry about this." _

_Once he could breathe, Greg said what he thought was right, "It wasn't that uncomfortable, you could have finished." _

"_No, really, I couldn't." Nick chuckled as he lunged for the nightstand tissue box. _

_Feeling like a failure, Greg darted off the bed to seek refuge in the bathroom for the rest of his life. _

"_G, Wait!"_

"_No." _

"_Yes!" Nick wrapped his hand around Greg's wrist and pulled him back to the edge of the bed. "You shouldn't be havin' sex if you're not mature enough to talk about it." _

_Too embarrassed to make eye contact, the over-achiever in everything but romance, said, "I bet you're rethinking that flu call to Grissom, because five days at a boring conference has to be better than the hell you just suffered through."_

"_Please don't stress about this, G." _

"_I'm horrible in bed, that's a pretty big deal." On the verge of tears, he tried to pull free of the grip on his wrist. "I really need to get out of here. Please let go of me." _

"_If you fall off a bike, you get right back on."_

"_I told you on the plane that I didn't learn how to ride a bike until the end of 2__nd__ grade. I was the only kid in the neighborhood who couldn't and all the other kids thought I was a freak." Greg lowered his head, "Which is exactly how I feel now. Sex with girls isn't uncomfortable, but there's no spark with girls, with you I see fireworks and get turned on just looking at you, but the sex wasn't pleasurable. It's the story of my life - I'm a freak." His emotions combining with the alcohol in his veins, he yelled, "I'm going to end up like Grissom – a brilliant, but horny genius with bugs for companions!" _

"_Can I talk now? Please." Nick slid to the middle of the bed and pulled Greg with him. "Just lay right there on that pillow and chill for five minutes. If you still need space after five minutes, I'll get dressed and leave you alone. Okay?"_

_Greg gave a reluctant nod. _

"_Thank you." Nick rested on his side, propping up on his elbow. "There's nothin' physically wrong with you, so there has to be a reason you didn't learn to ride a bike until the 2__nd__ grade. My guess is you probably fell off one when you were younger and your overprotective parents freaked out and convinced you it was too dangerous, or that you weren't athletic enough to ride a bike like the non-genius kids, who were better at physical stuff, but not half as smart as you."_

_Smiling for the first time since 'sex-gone-wrong', Greg nodded, "Yeah, that's pretty much how things were growing up. I could only do safe things and my parents never wanted other people to see me fail at something, because I had this boy-genius image they were trying to protect. My Papa Olaf told me that I got a bike for Christmas when I was four, but I fell off it in the driveway and skinned my knees and hands." _

"_I knew it. That shit's in your head and that's why you freak out every time you try something new and the results aren't perfect."_

"_Very intuitive, CSI Stokes." _

"_Thank you. You're gonna need to get over bein' perfect if you want to be a CSI, because we don't always get things right the first time and some cases truly aren't solvable." He paused to steal a kiss. "What your folks should have done when you fell off your bike in the driveway was to put the bike on some short grass and let you try again, tellin' you that it wouldn't hurt if you fell onto the grass. You woulda believed them and gave it a shot, and when you succeeded, you would have been spared four extra years of feelin' inferior." _

"_Probably, yeah." _

"_So let's not repeat the same mistake again, okay?" With that he grabbed another condom from the nightstand. "Time for another ride."_

"_No, really, I'm not up for it." Greg backed away. "I get what you're saying, and I agree in theory, but I'm seriously not in the mood for anything sexual." _

_Ignoring the whining, Nick said, "Remember how much you wanted to go for it in the shower, but couldn't because we didn't have the supplies?" Grinning, he flicked the packet in his confused buddy's direction. "Go for it. I have a hunch you'll enjoy things more from the top." _

"_You really want me to…" _

"_Definitely." _

"_This isn't a pity thing is it?" _

"_No." Retrieving the tube he had tossed into the rumpled sheets, Nick grinned, "It's all I've been thinkin' about since that shower." _

_Greg couldn't snatch the tube fast enough. _

_Nick burst out laughing. "You look pretty jazzed for a guy who just said he wasn't in the mood for anything sexual." _

"_I think your theory might be right." _

"_There's only one way to find out." Passionate kisses and probing caresses quickly heated him to an extreme. "Start out slow," Nick cautioned as he tore open the wrapper. "It's been a while." _

"_How long?" It was one of those questions you shouldn't ask, but his curious mind had to know the answer. _

_Once the condom was in place, Nick locked his eyes on his lover's. "Since the last time someone cared enough about me that I could trust them." He brushed his lips over the parted ones in front of him and gave his insecure friend some much needed psychological lubrication. "Don't worry about bein' perfect, because you already have me seein' stars." After a kiss for good luck, he turned around. _

"An insatiable top was born in that night in Pittsburgh." Greg planted a kiss on Nick's shoulder while popping open the tube in his hand with Brian Kinney finesse. "Which was exactly what you wanted me to be."

"Yeah, not that I mind changin' things up when you're in the mood." Rolling onto his stomach, Nick chuckled, "Just not tonight, honey, I had a rough day." All he wanted to do was feel the love between them and replace his excess tension with unbridled ecstasy.

"Not a problem." Greg tossed the tube and made his first move, reuniting their bodies for the first time in eight months. "Did you miss me, Tex?" he asked as they both shivered from the long overdue pleasure.

Savoring the intimacy he reserved only for soulmates, Nick closed his eyes. "Yessss."

"Good." Sliding his hand down his Nick's arm, Greg laced their fingers together as he slowly deepened their connection.

"I missed you so much." The grateful partner tightened his fingers around his lover's.

Pressing their bodies together, Greg murmured, "Loving you is still as perfect as the first time."

"_I know I wasn't supposed to get hung up on things being perfect, but that was __**perfect!**__" Greg rejoiced and then anxiously asked, "Was it good for you?" _

"_You couldn't tell?" The overly satisfied lover laughed, "I'm sure the people in the room next door know I was enjoyin' myself. Seriously, we need to put a rolled up towel behind the headboard before next time." _

"_So there will definitely be a next time?"_

"_Hell, yeah, I want my shower fantasy fulfilled before sunrise." _

_Greg gushed with excitement. "I never would have thought our bedroom chemistry would work out this way." _

"_I guess we finally know who's the better Chemist out of the two of us then, because I figured it a while ago." Propping up on his elbow, Nick said, "You've spent your whole life bein' submissive to everyone, and I've spent my whole life bein' forced to be dominant – with my competitive family, at school, on the football field, on the police force, bein' a tough guy in the field. So it makes sense that we both need a little time away from bein' who everyone expects us to be." _

"_I'm sure that Lady Heather chick would agree." _

"_Yeah, but that's a whole other level of squick." Nick cringed thinking of the bondage cases he had worked. "I'm confident we can work out our issues without puttin' on pig noses or leather masks, and just to warn you -I don't like to be tied up or blindfolded. I've been held against my will one too many times to make it anything but traumatic." He laughed, "I'm an old fashioned cowboy – I like traditional gay sex and romance. Which reminds me…" He gave his partner a gentle shove. "The top traditionally ditches the tissue-wrapped condom and brings back a towel, so get to it. Take care of your man!"_

"_And just like that, The Dom is back!" Greg hustled for the bathroom. _

"_Hey! Could you bring me a cold beer too?!" He winked. "Thanks, doll!" _

"_How about I rustle up a Turkey Pot Pie for ya!" _

"_Ooh!" Nick lunged for the room service menu. "No, we'll let LVPD pay for our after-sex munchies." _

_

* * *

_**The Bellagio – Suite 9 **

"What should I use my hard earned suspension money to pay for?" Catherine perused the menu in bed while her new playmate was in the luxurious bathroom filling the tub. "Vartann! Do you have any food preferences?!"

"Anything that I can eat off your chest works for me, sweetheart!" Laughing, he returned to the bedroom wearing one of the complimentary spa bathrobes. "I'm kidding, Red, and don't you think you should call me Tony now that we have carnal knowledge of one another?"

"I had no idea your name was Tony," she slurred, the champagne hitting her hard on an empty stomach. "That's so weird."

"Why? It's not your Ex-husband's name, his name was Eddie."

"No, it's so weird because I've known you for years and never knew Tony was your name."

"Some CSI you are Catherine Willows, native of Las Vegas, birthdate…"

"Say the year and you're out of here."

"March 26th. You graduated West Las Vegas University with a 3.8, very impressive considering you were paying your own way and working your ass off – literally."

"How long have you been stalking me?"

Returning to bed, he laughed, "I know everything about you CSIs and your Lab Rat friends."

"Oh really." She grinned, "Tell me who Nick is dating."

"For the last eight months, no one, before that he was shacking up with Sanders in a house on Canyon Ridge Road that he still owns with him. They paid too much for it in the first place, so I figure they held onto it after the split because they would have taken a huge loss in the current market. Just as well though, I have a feeling Stokes is probably moving back after today's drama. The last two times they got together were after the coffin nightmare and Sanders getting his ass kicked. I pretend I don't know they're gay since they're not out. I don't have a problem with gay guys as long as they're not shoving their ass in my crotch and asking me to show them a good time, but we've got a few serious homophobes in the department, so I can understand why they stay on the DL."

"Whoa."

"Yeah, I figured that would get your attention." Taking Catherine's hand, he led the way to the bathroom. "Wanna know what Wendy did in college that she doesn't want anyone to know about it?"

"Absolutely." Catherine was thrilled to have her two favorite pastimes combined – great sex and juicy gossip. "What do you have on Hodges?"

"Oooh, that one is honestly too good to give away for free."

* * *

**ANs: **

Answering a question - While Vartann has never actually been called Tony on the show, that is how the character is referred to in call sheets on set. Of couse CSI has been known to change things down the road when it comes to characters and backstories. The actor's name is Alex Carter.

In the next chapter, Connie arrives on someone's Dallas doorstep.

Due to the busy week ahead, I won't be posting the next chapter until after Christmas.

Thanks for reading and your comments on the last chapter and continued support of the story :D

**Happy Holidays!**

**Maggs **


	15. Chapter 15

**Bleeding Love – Part 15**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

When Greg woke to find himself alone in the bedroom, he panicked thinking his emotional and passionate reunion with Nick had been nothing more than a dream. A quick glance around the room only furthered his distress – there were no discarded clothes or any other evidence, like their discarded Mexican food containers and empty beer bottles. "Shit." But when he lifted his hands toward his face, he saw a platinum band on his finger and knew everything had been real. "Tex?!"

The lack of a response prompted a new worry – what if Nick had bolted again? "Tex?!" Greg flew out of bed and rushed into the great-room in his grey boxer briefs. "No way!" he exclaimed upon seeing the living area had been cleaned and organized back to its previously pristine state.

"Morning, Sunshine." Standing in front of a freshly brewed pot of coffee, Nick asked, "Did ya sleep well?"

"Like a rock." Greg checked the time off the oven clock. "Whoa, it's five a.m. already?" Usually when he was trying to reverse his sleeping time from days to nights to days, he would wake at one or two a.m. the first couple of tries.

"I wanted to wait for you to wake up in my arms, but I was wired at three and you were out cold." Tossing his arms around his lover's neck, Nick softy said, "I decided to come out here and clean up some more of the mess I caused when I walked out the door." Pressing his lips to Greg's he seized his first good morning kiss in eight months. "Last night was amazing and so are you. Thanks for lettin' me back."

"I'm surprised you stayed once you discovered there were layers of unseen crap under the visible piles of crap."

Reminded of the nightmare he discovered, Nick cringed. "I found two half-eaten apples under our couch, a pizza crust, and a ton of crumbs. You're lucky that stuff didn't attract ants."

"I kept paying the exterminating service for the bi-monthly treatments you ordered." If there was one thing Nick couldn't stomach more than a messy house, it was sharing his living space with bugs, ants in particular. "Because I knew you'd be back eventually."

The relieved bug-phobe smiled.

"Still up for driving to Encino?"

"I really could use a break from this city, so definitely." Nick swiped another kiss. "And you know how much I love takin' road trips. If we leave at six-thirty, we'll be there before lunch."

* * *

Immediately after turning her rental car into the Stokes circular driveway, Connie Sanders chickened out. The fear of losing her son was suddenly greater than her desire for closure, so she decided to drive by the outrageously charming and impeccably landscaped two-story ranch home, complete the driveway loop, and make a hasty exit back to the hotel where she had spent the night practicing her 'you son is gay' speech. Unfortunately, just as she reached the midpoint of the circle, the front door of the home flew open. "Dammit!" When she saw two little girls dart onto the large front porch followed by a breathless Jillian Stokes and three more cherub-faced children, Connie knew she had no choice but to park and explain her presence.

"Hi, there!" Connie smiled and waved as she walked around the front of her rented Camry.

"Howdy!" Mandi and Melani, the four year old twin daughters of William Stokes Jr., energetically replied.

"Connie Sanders?" Jillian stated, both pleased and surprised to see the mother of her son's co-worker in her driveway. Picking up her two year old granddaughter, Molli, while flanked by her four and three year old grandsons, Elijah and Zachariah, she burst into a welcoming smile. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Remember a few years ago when we had lunch together at the hospital while my son, Greg, visited Nick? You gave me your address and insisted that if I was ever in Dallas I had to stop by and see you." Connie held up her arms. "Well, here I am."

"Yes, yes of course. I'm so happy you made it. Come in, come in." She excitedly waved in the woman who had been exceedingly kind and supportive after Nick's coffin ordeal had left her shaken to the core. "I'm neck-deep in grandchildren and Thanksgiving crafts, so you couldn't have picked a better time. I guess The Lord heard my prayers when I asked for another set hands to help me get through this crazy project I never should have attempted with eight kids at once. Okay! Everybody back to the kitchen! We need to eat lunch and finish up before your parents show up to get you!"

"Eight?" Connie smiled at the five staring at her.

"Yes, thank The Lord I had the good sense to tell the other seven school-age ones to come by on Sunday after church. My husband will be back from his huntin' trip by then, not that he'll be much of a help in the kitchen, but at least he can supervise a few in the yard while I craft and bake with the others."

"You have **fifteen **grandchildren?" the mother of one childless son stated while trying to hide her envy.

"**Twenty-two!**" she proudly corrected. "The other six are teenagers who are too busy with activities." Shutting the front door, Jillian chuckled, "That's their polite way of sayin' they're too old to make cookies and turkey-handprint crafts with their grandma anymore. Not that I blame them, I've been doin' these holiday craft and bakin' parties four times a year since the first grandchild was two – Valentine's Day, Easter, Thanksgivin', and Christmas, so they've paid their dues. With my daughter-in-law, Marci, vowin' not to stop until she gives Bill Junior a son to carry on the Stokes family name, there's no end in sight. The two boys are my daughter Kendra's, but the twins are Billy and Marci's and so is this little princess in my arms. Their oldest, Madi, is in the house watchin' my daughter Kelly's son Jacob. Marci just gave birth to her fifth girl, Maggi, in July, which was number twenty-two. Billy told me they're about ready to try for number six, so God-willing, we'll have twenty-three and finally a William Stokes III by this time next year. We're a real fertile bunch," she chuckled. "Now if Nicky could just find a nice girl to settle down with, instead of bein' married to his job, maybe he will make another set of Stokes twins on his honeymoon and I'll end up with twenty-five grandkids by 2010! I like the sound of 'twenty-five grandchildren' as the title of my 2010 family Christmas letter, it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Uh…" The second Connie stepped into the large, sunny kitchen, which was filled with aroma of freshly baked pumpkin bread and eight adorable grandchildren, tears formed in her eyes. "You have a beautiful home," she politely choked out. "May I use your restroom?"

"Certainly!" Her southern hospitality shining through, Jillian graciously said, "My house is your house. It's straight down that hall, second door on your left. Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"No, thank you." Clutching her tote bag like a security blanket Connie rushed into the hallway. "What was I thinking, coming here?" she muttered under her breath. It was like being in some twisted version of A Christmas Carol, where the 'Ghost of What-Might-Have-Been' was torturing her with scenes from the life she would have had if her three little angels had survived, and along with Greg, had given her grandchildren to bake and craft with around the holidays. "Oh my God," she breathed out, hyperventilating as she walked down the endless hallway lined on both sides with gorgeous family pictures and individual portraits of the Stokes children and grandchildren. "I've walked into my own personal hell." _I have to get out of here!_

But after scanning the walls twice, she was reminded that she was actually just a guest in Nick's personal hell and decided to stay and try to free him from his tortured existence. Except for his old high school and college graduation photos, there was little evidence he existed, other than his background appearances in family wedding and reunion pictures. Every other sibling was prominently displayed with their spouses and children, but Nick was only yesterday's news, given the tiniest patch of wall, in the darkest part of hallway…the forgotten child who would only be well lit and glorified once he married and reproduced.

* * *

Making the final turn toward the Sanders family home, Nick said, "We never discussed how you want to tell everyone the wedding's back on. Do you want to wait until your mom is there to…"

"We can't, because everyone will see our rings." Checking his hair in the passenger side vanity mirror, Greg said, "We'll surprise my Dad and grandparents, then tell them we want to wait and tell my mom ourselves. I'm sure Connie will fly home once she knows we're here. My dad didn't want to tell her and get her hopes up when she called from San Francisco last night, just in case we changed our minds and decided to stay home and make up for lost time in the sack."

"He didn't really say that, did he?"

"No," Greg laughed, "My dad has a potty mouth, so he said the f-word and then waxed nostalgic about reunion sex with a college girlfriend and how they broke her roommate's desk, which my dad had bent her over. My dad's a brutal top apparently." He laughed harder. "Like father like son."

Nick would never get used to the open dialogue expressed and encouraged in the Sanders household. "I'm gettin' really nervous." Feeling like a deadbeat boyfriend he was, his stomach twisted into a knot the second he pulled in the driveway of the ultra-contemporary Sanders home that was the polar opposite of the traditional ranch house he grew up in.

"There's a big surprise for you inside, Tex."

While parking his truck, Nick took a guess, "Your dad killin' me instead of your mom doin' the honors?"

"Trust me, you're gonna love it!"

Propelled by curiosity, the deadbeat boyfriend left the safety of his truck to join his obviously excited partner at the start of the winding path to the art-deco front door. "I'm anxious enough, G, just tell me what the surprise is."

"Nope." When he saw his dad and his grandparents in the open front door, Greg's excitement grew. "They must have been watching for us out the window."

"Great, it's an ambush. Any sign of weapons?"

Greg grabbed his man's hand and dragged him to the front door. "We're here!" he yelled, even though it was obvious.

"Welcome back to the family, Nicky!" Dan and Nana Olaf shouted, hoping it would ease the perpetually-tense man's anxiety.

Feeling his cheeks flush, Nick forced himself to make eye contact with the people who he had royally shafted eight months ago. "Thanks, I don't deserve the warm welcome, but I'm grateful for it." He stepped forward to give Nana Olaf a hug. "I'm really sorry for the drama I caused all of you." When he heard Papa Olaf muttering in Norwegian, he gulped. "Uh…"

Instead of correctly translating what his crusty grandfather had grumbled, Greg said 'he can't wait to talk sports with you over Nana's seafood bisque!'" Then he excitedly hugged his father and whispered, "Love you, Dad. Are we all set for the surprise?"

"It's waiting in the laundry room."

Nana smacked her husband's shoulder and cursed him for saying 'I wonder how long the nutcase will stick around this time?'

"Check it out!" Greg joyfully lifted his right hand and Nick's. "We're engaged! As soon as mom and her cronies get Prop 8 tossed, we're gettin' hitched!"

"I'm so happy for you." Nana kissed her grandson's cheeks and gave him a big squeeze. "Maybe now you'll relax and put some weigh on. You're too skinny again, I can feel your ribs. Good thing I made a big lunch for you."

"I promise to stuff my face." Greg pointed into the house. "Give me a two minute lead."

"You got it." Dan extended his right hand toward his future son-in-law. "Whatever makes Greg happy, makes me happy, and for some strange reason, you make him happy, so I really am glad you came to your senses…again."

"Thank you, Sir." Nick returned the handshake. "I promise I won't get cold feet again."

Tired of all the mushiness, Papa clapped his hands. "Come on, come on, let's go inside and do that thing we're supposed to do, because I'm hungry, and who knows how long the cowboy is gonna stick around." He slapped the boy on his shoulder and squeezed. "If you leave my grandson again, I'll ignore Greg's pleas to spare your life and come after you with my Viking wrath. I don't know if he's told you, but we can trace my ancestry back to Ivar the Boneless who was strong enough to conquer York while being carried on a shield! Ivar's favorite thing to do was carve the blood eagle on the backs of traitors. Do you know what 'carving the blood eagle' means, Nicky?"

"Uh…" Nick politely replied, "No, Sir, I don't, but I have a feeling it's not a tattoo."

"It's when the back is carved open and ribs plucked out one by one until the lungs can be plucked like…"

"Can it!" Nana Olaf scowled at her husband. "Don't listen to him, Nicky, he comes from a long line of bakers, not barbarians. The blood eagle – ha! He's too squeamish to de-bone a chicken for supper."

"Yeah, some Viking, you faint from the sight of blood." Dan motioned for Nick to follow him into the living room. "Greg's bringing the surprise out here."

"Can I have a hint?" Nick pleaded, hating surprises.

"It's spread on bread with grape jelly."

"Peanut Butter?"

"Skippy." Dan pointed to Greg walking down the hall with the ten-month old purebred Redbone Coonhound puppy they had been caring for since the end of July.

Stunned by the sight, Nick covered his mouth with his hand.

"Greg ordered him from a breeder and planned on giving him to you as a surprise gift when you returned from your honeymoon and the end of July. He didn't want to cancel the order after the wedding was off, which we all translated to mean he hoped you'd be getting back together. We offered to keep Skippy here until the puppy stage was over and he could cope with being at home alone while Greg worked."

Stunned by the revelation Nick squeaked, "He's so cute."

"I know, I missed him. He's gotten much bigger since I last saw him." Greg knelt down and let the puppy lick him. "Skippy's the real reason I wanted to drive out here today."

"I can't believe we have a puppy." Tears welled in Nick's eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to think I was using Skippy to trap you."

Dan turned his back so he could silently release his laughter over the boys discussing the Coonhound like it was a love child Greg had been hiding.

Feeling like a deadbeat dad, Nick said, "He's been livin' here all this time. What if he's already bonded with everyone else and wants nothin' to do with me?"

"Come on, Tex, he's a ten month old puppy, not a bitter twenty year old whose father didn't pay child support." Releasing the leash, Greg gave the pup a gentle push in the right direction. "Go meet your other daddy."

While Nana Olaf cried tears of joy, Dan's laughter filled the room. "Sorry, boys, but…" his laughter returned before he completed his apology.

"C'mere." Nick knelt down and opened his arms, hoping the pup would accept him. "Here, Skippy!"

"See." Greg's heart warmed at the sight of Skippy wagging and slobbering kisses all over Nick's face.

"Connie is going to kill us for not videotaping this very special episode of _My Gay Son_." Watching Skippy lick away the cowboy's tears, Papa Olaf shook his head. "Danny Boy! Don't just stand there! Get a camera and start snapping pictures for Connie's scrapbook. If you don't, she may kick you out of the bedroom again."

Dan dashed off. "I'll grab the Kodak from my office!"

Joining his partner and the new addition to their family, Greg jokingly barked, "Who's your other Daddy, Skippy? Who's your other Daddy?!" He howled so the puppy would react. "See, he knows."

"Thank you." Nick bear-hugged his mate and cursed himself for the millionth time cursed himself for leaving. "I can't believe you were tryin' to give me a family while I walkin' out the door."

"We're moving on, not looking back, remember?" Greg handed his partner the dog leash. "Let's go outside and play fetch with our boy."

"After that, I want to take him to Petco and buy him some treats and stuff." Nick grinned uncontrollably. "I can't believe I have a dog. I haven't had a dog since I left home for college."

"Time for a family portrait, boys." Dan motioned for the threesome to huddle up. "Aww. That's perfect."

"Today it's a Coonhound," Nana sighed, "Next year…a baby." The boys had no idea that Connie and Dan had found the perfect surrogate and were praying the boys would give them a grandchild one day.

Greg let his grandmother down gently, "Sorry, Nana, with our jobs, raising a puppy will be more than enough of a challenge, and I really can't imagine ever being responsible for more than a dog."

"Don't give up." Nick winked at the sweet woman he knew was just looking out for her daughter's interests. "I might be able to convince him to let me have a baby some day."

Thinking of a story in the news recently, of a woman who had a sex change operation to become a man, but still had the inside parts to successfully carry and deliver a baby for his infertile wife, Papa stated the obvious, "Nick has a secret uterus?! What else are you crazy people keeping from me?"

* * *

"You still haven't told me what brought you to Dallas, Connie." With her rambunctious grandsons on their way home with their mother, Jillian decided to relax on the patio with her guest while watching her four granddaughters playing in the yard.

"Business." _**Family**_ _business_.

"Forgive me if you already told me, but what do you again?"

"I'm a retired school teacher, but I sit on various committees and do consulting work to fill my free time." The President of her local PFLAG chapter smiled at the full-time grandma. "Believe me, I'd rather spend my time doting on grandkids, but until I have one, I need to keep busy somehow."

Troubled by her youngest child's prolonged status as a bachelor, the concerned mother asked, "How old is your boy?"

"Greg turned 30 in May."

"Nicky's 35 and I worry, because he really doesn't seemed to be interested in anything but work. Do you think it's the job? Because Nicky's boss, Mr. Grissom, he's not married and everyone who has been married on the team ended up gettin' divorced. Does your son show any interest in findin' a girl to settle down with and start a family?"

"No," Connie answered truthfully.

"Greg just turned 30, so he has a little time, but Nicky's half way to 40 already and all he ever talks about when he comes home once a year, is his job. It's like he doesn't have a life outside of the lab." Jillian shook her head. "I thought for sure almost dyin' in that coffin woulda helped prioritize his life, but instead of takin' time to smell the roses, he went right back to workin' seventy hours a week. When he came home for Christmas that year we introduced him to this lovely girl, Natalie Westmore, she's a social worker and her father is an elder at our church. She was perfect for him – red hair, nice curves, an A&M graduate who enjoys watchin' sports. Most of all, their jobs were so similar – they both were advocates for victims who couldn't speak for themselves. We thought for sure they'd hit it off, but after one date, Nicky said she was a great girl, but he didn't have time for a long-distance relationship and didn't want to string her along."

Loosely quoting her son, Connie said, "Not everyone is meant to have a spouse, kids, a safe job, and a ranch in the burbs. Some people have to fight for justice for innocent victims and lock away dangerous criminals or the world wouldn't be safe for anyone's children, right? Anyway, you already have 22 grandkids, so is it really critical that Nick adds to the pile?"

"Forgive me if I sounded greedy earlier when I was talkin' about my 2010 Christmas card." Jillian sweetly tried to correct the misperception, "It's not about my needs at all. It's about me wantin' my boy to be happily married and enjoyin' life as much as his brother and sisters. As a mother, it really pains me to see one of mine not havin' the same opportunities and joy as everyone else."

"I know exactly what you mean," Connie snipped, thinking of how Prop 8 just took her son's right to marry away. _And I am going to remember your words and feed them back to you some day. _

"Especially when so many terrible things have happened to Nicky in the line of duty. Of anyone, he deserves the most happiness out of all my children, not the least."

"How do you know he's not happy?"

"A mother knows when her child is troubled." Jillian glanced at her guest. "Don't you know when something is botherin' Greg?"

"Yes, because he calls me and tells me."

"Nicky's never been one to say how he's feelin', and I'd never pry, so I have to guess. When he's here he puts on a good show for the family, but in the quiet moments when he doesn't know I'm watchin', I can tell somethin' is truly wrong." Jillian floated her theory. "I think the horrible things he's seen on the job have damaged him – much like a front-line soldier after a brutal war."

"Mama!" Six year old Madi yelled from the top of the redwood playset. "Watch Molli go down the slide like a big girl!"

"Hey, Maci." Jillian stood to greet her daughter-in-law. "Where's the baby?"

"I left her in the kitchen. She's asleep in her carrier and I didn't want her to get a chill outside."

"Where are my manners?" Jillian chided herself. "Maci Stokes, this is Connie Sanders, the mother of one of Nicky's team members and a friend. We met when I was stayin' at the hospital with Nicky and she took up on my offer to drop by if she was ever in Dallas. She flew in from California last night."

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." Maci pushed out a smile. "I didn't know I'd be meetin' anyone, please forgive me for lookin' like this." She appealed to her mother-in-law, "Please don't tell Billy I met one of Nicky's friends when I was lookin' so awful, he'll see red."

"I promise, honey."

Connie couldn't see a thing wrong with the beautiful young woman except for some dark circles under her eyes. "Don't be silly, you look fabulous, dear. I only had one child and didn't look half as lovely on most days. I'm surprised you can shower when you have five girls under the age of seven. There were days when my husband would come home and my hair would look like it had survived a twister."

"Let's go, girls!" Maci shouted. "Mama has to cook a fancy dinner tonight!" She turned to her mother-in-law. "Billy called this mornin' and informed me he was bringin' home people for dinner and that we had to have rack of lamb. In between nursin' Maggi all day, I've been frantically cleanin' and shoppin'. I'm so beat, I'm startin' to think I'm pregnant again. Billy couldn't wait another month like I wanted to, so it is a possibility."

"Do you need me to keep the girls here until tonight?"

"No, he wants them all in their Sunday best sittin' around the fire readin' scripture when the man and his family arrive, because the guy is in the Christian book or music business, or somethin'. I don't know, I didn't ask questions."

Connie gaped at the Stepford wife standing before her. "If I had five small children and my husband had called demanding Norman Rockwell perfection by sundown, I would have told him to shove a rack of lamb where the sun. Sweetie, you're his wife, not his slave."

"There's a difference?" Maci vacantly replied as she gathered her children. "What do you tell Grandma Stokes and her friend?"

"Thank you, Grandma!" they all chimed in perfect unison. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Sanders!"

"Yes, it was nice to meet you, Mrs. Sanders." Maci feigned one last smile. "Have a safe trip back to California."

Once they were alone, Connie said, "That poor woman is exhausted. You should call your son and tell him the poor thing needs to be resting, not hosting a dinner party for twelve. Suggest he pick up Chinese or something."

"Good heavens, I would never involve myself in my son's personal life." Jillian chuckled at the crazy notion. "He's a grown man, I can't imagine how emasculated he'd feel if his mommy meddled in his affairs. Wouldn't Greg be shocked if one day you picked up the phone and started bossin' him around?"

"Well…"

"Billy is the head of his household and does what's best for his family. Don't worry about Maci, she's a strong woman who knows her place. Behind every successful man there is an exhausted woman who helped him succeed. Maci is committed to helpin' Billy advance in his career and provide more for their family, just like I did."

Connie was still trying to process the '**behind** every successful man there is an exhausted woman' part. "Wow." _I thought I took a plane here, but obviously it was a time machine. _"Look at the time! I don't want to overstay my welcome, so…"

"Don't be silly!" Jillian took her friend by the arm. "I've been home alone all week except for grandkids, so I'm happy for the adult company. If you don't have any plans, let me show you around the city. I'd love to sneak in a little shoppin' before Bill gets home. Don't repeat this, but my husband is a bit of a tightwad. He made sure all the children analyzed the value of every dollar before they spent it. Some of the kids, like Billy, are just as bad, but others like my daughter Kimberly, went the opposite way. She loves to come here and show her daddy how she wasted her money on the latest trend or silly gadget. Bill bit his tongue when she showed up carryin' her pocket Chihuahua in a special purse, but when she took the dog out and it was wearin' a cute pink sweater with little heart rhinestones on it, he lost his mind. Her daddy never let the family dogs in the house, so she did it on purpose knowin' it would rile him up."

* * *

"Check this out, Tex!" Standing in the clothing aisle at Petco, Greg held up a Cowboys football jersey. "Skippy can wear it on Sunday when Dallas kicks Washington's ass."

"My sister brought her Chihuahua over to my folks' house and when my dad saw it was wearin' a fancy pink sweater he just about lost his mind. He thinks dogs should be outside and definitely not outfitted in the latest trends. He'd have a fit seein' a shirt on a Coonhound, even if it had the Dallas logo."

"So is that a yes or a no to the jersey?"

"Definitely a yes." Nick grabbed the shirt and tossed it in their cart. "I'm gonna put it on Skippy and get his picture with Santa and send it to my parents as my Christmas card. Won't they be shocked to see I can have a photo card just like the rest of my siblings."

"If you really want to shock them, let's send the family photo my dad just took of **us** posing with Skippy."

While therapeutically petting his puppy's back, Nick quietly said, "I think it's best to tell them in person rather than surprisin' them with a picture."

* * *

"Don't forget your tote bag!" Jillian rushed to pick up the quilted paisley bag from the kitchen counter. "Unless you want to leave it here while we shop?"

No longer wanting to blow the whistle on Nick, Connie said, "I'll put the bag in my rental car, thanks." But as she went to take it, she missed the handle and the tote and all its contents, fell to the floor.

"Forgive me." Jillian crouched down to retrieve everything.

"That's okay! I'll pick everything up!" Connie blurted upon seeing one of the photo albums had opened up on impact.

"Is that my Nicky without a shirt on?" Jillian didn't have her reading glasses on, so she couldn't be sure. "It looks like…"

"Yes," Connie admitted without making eye contact. "I came here with every intention of telling you, but your grandkids were here and I chickened out."

"OH!" The stunned mother grabbed her chest. "My God in heaven!" She couldn't believe she had been so blind. "I can't believe I treated you like a friend when you're committin' adultery with my little boy!"

"What?!" Connie shrieked.

"How dare you bring your collection of half-naked photos of Nicky under my roof!"

"You have it all…"

"Did you honestly think I was gonna welcome you into the family with open arms?!" Her temper flaring, Jillian pointed to the door. "Get out! I can't believe I let you around my grandchildren!"

"Would you calm down and listen to me?!"

"I'm gonna call my husband and let him handle this with Nicky!" Believing her son's obsession with older women came from being molested by a babysitter as a child, she burst into tears. "I knew the boy had problems, but…"

"I'm not Nick's secret love!" Connie roared over the irrational woman's sobs. "My son is!"

* * *

**ANs: **

This chapter was written on a break from wrapping presents, I didn't plan on getting one out before Christmas! If you enjoyed it, consider it a surprise holiday gift! If you didn't…sorry, I'll get you something different next year : )

I think this chapter is a better place to leave off before the holiday break – this way if you think your family is dysfunctional, just be happy you're not part of the Stokes clan…or in Connie's shoes.

Once again, Happy Holidays! And if you want a Cowboys jersey (or any other team) they really do sell them at Petco.

Maggs

P.S. Forgive me if there are any typos, my keyboard and mouse are sticking and I have to wait until Santa brings me a new one : ) I keep catching left out letters that don't trigger spell check like the 'r' in her missing. Frustrating!


	16. Chapter 16

**Bleeding Love – Part 16**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

"We're baaaack," Greg announced when he entered the house through the front door with Nick and Skippy behind him.

"We're in the family room watching TV," Dan's shouted back. "Come show us what you got the pooch!"

Anxious to show off his purchases and his happiness, Greg led the way.

"Your dad sounds excited." Nick shook his head. "My father would lose his mind if I told him how much I spent on this puppy in one afternoon."

"We didn't spend **that **much, and who doesn't spoil their first kid?" When Greg strolled into the family room, he walked over to the cushy brown leather sofa to greet his grandmother a hug. "Nick bought you some flowers, Nana."

"Aww, that was very sweet of you, Nicky. They're beautiful." Nana grinned at the young man as he presented the bouquet. "But really, you can stop sucking up to me now. I really do forgive you and believe you're here to stay."

"No, I got 'em for you makin' bisque." He pecked her cheek. "To say thank you."

"She may be satisfied with you, but I'm not there yet, cowboy." Papa Olaf glared at the fickle young man. "I like 20 year old Scotch."

"Duly noted, Sir." Nick gave the old man a nod.

"Check it out." Opening one of the Petco shopping bags, Greg pulled out a treat. "At the pet store they told us Pig Ears were passé. Bully Sticks are now the preferred chew of the canine set." He handed the treat to Nick, so he could offer it and tighten his bond with the pup.

"Sit, Skippy." Once the floppy-eared Coonhound followed instructions, Nick handed over the treat. "Good boy."

The five adults watched the puppy trot over to the pet bed next to the fireplace and start chomping on his new treat.

"Looks like the Petco people were right. Skippy loves it." Nana Olaf watched the puppy with a smile. "It smells a little funny though. What are Bully Sticks made from? Pig skin?"

"No." With scientific detachment, Greg explained, "They call it a Bully Stick, because it's a dried Bull Penis. I think it's great that they find ways to use every part of an animal after slaughter. I wonder what they do with the eyeballs."

"Ugh." The idea turned Nana Olaf's stomach. "Why would you think it's a good idea to have him put a penis in his mouth? That's disgusting." Then she thought about what she said. "Not that I'm saying…what I meant was…I was talking about dried, dead penises, not good ones."

While Greg laughed along with his wacky grandmother, Nick flushed to a bright red.

"Unbelievable." Papa Olaf sighed, "One afternoon of shopping with the boys and the dog is gay."

"Yeah." Dan Sanders teased his father-in-law who believed ice hockey would have kept Greg straight. "Too bad they didn't take Skippy to a hockey game, he'd be around the corner knocking up Mrs. Talvert's fluffy white poodle, right, Pop?"

Ignoring the banter, Greg said, "I called Becca to tell her the wedding was back on and she invited us to a party at her house tonight. I really want to see her, but I'm not in the mood for some of her guests or the 90210 scene. I didn't fit with them when I was a poor San Marino scholarship student going to their prep school, so I really doubt they'll be impressed by me being an underpaid and overworked CSI who drives a beater." He shrugged and lied, "Not that I ever cared what they thought about me."

"I really didn't want to go anyway, G." Nick pointed to their pup. "It's our first night with Skippy."

Dan chuckled, "Skippy goes to bed at ten and has been sleeping through the night since August, Becca's party probably doesn't even start 'til eleven. Go out and have fun while you have free babysitting." When he saw they were still waffling, he added, "Nick, I'll let you drive my Jag convertible, and Greg…we weren't poor when we lived in the San Marino house, we were middle class. It just seemed like we were destitute in comparison to your classmates who hopped on their daddy's private jet to go to Fiji for Christmas. If anyone asks, just say you're an adrenaline junkie who loves the thrill of being a CSI. Tell them you donate your salary to an organization called _Perros con Tres_, a group that provides prosthetic limbs to 3-legged dogs in Guatemala and those drunk twits will ooh and aww and whip out their checkbooks to support your cause."

When Greg looked to him for a decision, Nick smiled, "He had me at 'you can drive my Jag convertible'. In exchange for a joy ride in a vehicle with a 420 horsepower, supercharged 4.2 liter engine, I can handle superficial idiots for an hour. Coast highway here we come!"

"Can I pick the tunes?"

"You bet."

Greg nodded at his father. "Okay, you can babysit the grandpup while we go out."

* * *

"Get out!" Jillian clutched her head. "Telling me something much worse to make me less angry about the truth didn't work when my children tried it, so it certainly won't work for a scheming adulterer like you!"

"I'm not lying!" Connie showed a scrapbook page of Nick and Greg sound asleep spooning in her backyard hammock.

Staring in horror at the photo, the confused mother anxiously said, "I'm not a bumpkin, I know photos can be altered on computers."

"Look, I know this is a horrible way to find out and I'm very sorry it happened this way, but the cat is out of the bag now and we have to deal with it." Connie calmly tried to reason with the overwhelmed woman in front of her, "I honestly believe everything happens for a reason. I came here to tell you the truth because I was fed up with the suffering caused by Nick living in fear of you and the rest of your family finding out he's gay. When I arrived, I immediately came to my senses and realized it wasn't my place to tell you, but now the scrapbook accidentally opened. I believe that means it really was time for you to know the truth."

"I want you to leave."

"You should be thanking me, not kicking me out!"

"**Thanking you?"** Jillian couldn't imagine hearing anything more absurd.

"Yes." Determined to break through the wall of denial Jillian was frantically building, Connie held up another loving picture - Greg feeding Nick a bite of marzipan on Christmas. "Just thirty minutes ago you were sad for Nick and wishing he could be happily married and enjoying life like his siblings. I'm here telling you he **is** happy. Except for a few small break ups when the stress of leading a double life got to be too much for him, Nick has been together with Greg for years. That's why I was at the hospital the day I met you. I flew to Vegas to support Greg when he was beside himself over what happened to Nick. I took you to the cafeteria for lunch that day so our sons could have some time alone together."

"I can't believe…"

"It's true. They love each other, Jillian. Look at the pictures and you'll see it." She selected a photo of the boys at the beach. "Whenever they come to visit us in California, Nick is relaxed and smiling. He's sweet and romantic with Greg, they snuggle on the couch watching movies, they go to the ocean, they picnic under the stars. They've been out with us on our boat and we've taken them to Catalina Island on vacation. He has exactly what you were just wishing he did - a happy, normal life. Nick is only depressed when he's here because he's pretending to be someone he's not and he hates lying to all of you."

Fighting to stay in denial, Jillian turned her back on the photos. "The only liar in this house is **you**, and you've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you and your vile scrapbook full of lies to go." Without making eye contact, she marched to the front door and unlocked it.

* * *

After making sure the door was locked, Nick scanned Greg's bedroom suite, "Wow, it looks like a completely different room." He liked the rustic feel much better than the old contemporary style with black metal furniture and white bedding. "I really love it, especially the carved wood headboard. It's like we stepped into a tricked-out cabin in Montana."

"Once we were married, my mom wanted you to feel like this was your home away from home too, so she picked the furniture with you in mind and the red, gold, and chocolate brown colors were for me." After tugging off his t-shirt, Greg said, "Wait until you crawl under the covers. It's like sleeping on a cloud."

"Great, another thing to feel guilty over - I'm sure she was thrilled she went to that expense of redecoratin' after I walked out the door." Shaking his head, Nick tossed his overnight bag on the floor. "It's gonna take a lot more than a nice bouquet or twenty year old Scotch to win her back."

"As soon as she sees how happy I am, all will be forgiven, but not forgotten. Connie never forgets anything." Stripped down to his black boxer-briefs, Greg walked over to the bed and lifted the digital alarm clock from the nightstand. "If I set it for ten p.m., that'll give us over five hours of Z's and plenty of time to shower and get to Becca's house fashionably late."

"Good." Nick neatly folded his jeans and hung them over the back of the desk chair. "I've been up since three and I don't want to nod off drivin' your daddy's Jag."

Throwing back the layers of fluffy bedding, Greg smiled, "That's how you know you know my Dad's forgiven you. That car is his baby."

"Whoa." Nick sunk into the cloud that was supposedly a mattress.

"I told you." Greg rested on his side facing his partner. "I think she went the ultra-deluxe route hoping it would entice us to visit more often."

"Hell, I want to move in here."

"We may have to if the Sheriff cans us."

"He won't." Nick rolled onto his side. "Grissom will say the usual 'if they go, I walk' and we'll be back to work on Monday night."

"Yeah." Greg sighed, "So we'll have to make the most of tomorrow and Sunday."

"You know what I'd like to do…" After snuggling closer, he continued, "Once we've made an appearance at the party, I'd like to take that joy ride up the coast highway I mentioned and then find the perfect place to watch the sunrise with you in my arms." Instead of waiting for a reply, he lingered a kiss over the smile in front of him.

"Mmm," Greg dreamily replied once his lips were free.

"Do you like that idea?"

"I **love** that idea."

"And I **love** you."

Yanking his amorous partner on top of him, Greg teased, "I see you're already in a California state of mind, Tex." He always turned into a different person when they crossed the border. "Romantic and relaxed."

"It's easy to relax in this bed." The grateful man continued mingling his words with juicy kisses to random places on his partner's body. "I'm in a romantic mood because…you made me so happy…I swear, when you gave me Skippy…every ounce of tension from yesterday…and the last eight months…melted away."

"I don't know." With a devilish laugh, Greg said, "I'm definitely feeling some inches of tension left in your body."

Lifting his mouth from Greg's chest, Nick smirked, "Happens like clockwork every time I get in a California state of mind. Are ya up for it?"

"Are you kidding?" Greg lunged for the nightstand drawer. "I have a conditioned Pavlovian urge for it every time we hit the state line." He laughed at their predictability. "As soon as we cross the border, you chill out. Once we're here, you get romantic, and when we fall into to bed, you have to top." Handing over a bottle he grinned, "You know that California Breeze scented stuff Catherine has blowing in her office?"

"Yeah."

"One sniff of that stuff and I start fantasizing about falling onto my back for you." Grinning wider, he crashed onto the pillows. "I can't focus on anything Cath's saying - she becomes one of those fuzzy Charlie Brown grown ups saying 'mwah mwah mwah' in the background."

While sensually exploring his partner's heating body with his hands and mouth, Nick rasped, "We'll have to ask our therapist to explain the California phenomena."

"I did."

"And?" he curiously asked while hastily removing Greg's briefs and flinging them across the room.

"Based on what I told her about you, she theorized that when you're overwhelmed with anxiety, you need to give up control in order to relax, but when you're relaxed, it's such an unnatural state, you have to control something to feel normal."

"Sounds about right," the control-freak snickered before swirling his tongue down the overly sensitive flesh of his lover's neck.

Squirming from tortuous pleasure, Greg giddily shared, "I was really easy for the Doc to figure out - it all boils down to my over-bearing parents never letting me do anything risky. I get a rush when I do something one or both of them don't approve of – like my job, but when I'm around them in California, I get an extra special rush from the thrill of them possibly catching me being a bad boy."

"So my biggest nightmare is a turn on for you?"

"Yeah."

"That's pretty twisted, G."

"Did I kill the vibe?" It was an inside joke between them since Pittsburgh.

"No." Winking, Nick flipped open the bottle top. "It'll take more than hearin' about your squick to knock the wind out of my sails."

"I don't see any sails, but your mast is lookin' mighty fine." After laughing at his own lame joke, Greg asked, "Did you remember to lock the…" he gasped from the chill of the liquid and the pleasure of his partner's teasing touch. "Mmm…did you lock the door?"

Feeling relaxed enough to indulge in a little silliness, Nick replied, "Why? Are ya afraid someone is gonna catch you bein' bad?"

Enjoying the mental foreplay as much as the physical stoking of his body, Greg mischievously replied, "My parents think we're in here studying for finals. I'm taking Staci to the prom…they have no idea I like boys. If they open the door and see you..." Feeling and watching his partner's mouth slowly consume him, he panted, "If they…see you…mmm." When forming words became a challenge, he switched to moaning.

Nick abruptly retreated. "Maybe we should stop."

"No."

"Really?" In between the verbal play, he taunted his lover's aroused body with his tongue. "You're not worried your mom will walk in and catch me doing this?"

Loving every second of the torture, Greg snickered, "I can think of a few other things that would be worse."

"Me too." Nick flipped his kinky playmate on his stomach. "I bet Mom would lose her mind if she knew I was doin' this."

* * *

Watching Nick's mother imploding before her eyes, Connie pleaded, "I know what you're feeling. I was in your shoes ten years ago when Greg sat down with me and told me he was gay. Even though we had our suspicions, it was still shocking to hear the words and realize your little boy is on a different path than the one you wanted for him. I know I can't expect you to go from shocked to calm in five minutes, but I think if we make some Chamomile tea and sit down, I could calmly address your concerns and explain anything you don't understand. I know I felt much better once I spoke to another mother who could empathize and…"

"**Tea?!** Are you crazy?!" Jillian shouted as she cried, "What I need is for you to stop sayin' my son is…" She couldn't say the word. "You and your son have obviously influenced Nick and made him believe he's not normal."

Connie gingerly doled out another morsel of truth. "Greg didn't make your son gay. He was born that way and has been actively exploring his sexuality since he was a teenager who realized he wasn't attracted to girls."

"Save your liberal rhetoric for California. People aren't born gay. It's a **choice. **A decision made out of confusion or desperation." The idea of her son being born gay offended the conservative Christian mother on many levels. "I gave birth to a normal, healthy baby boy and my husband and I raised him right. There was nothin' wrong with him when he lived under my roof, so don't you dare insinuate he was attracted to boys while he was livin' here. Nicky may be temporarily confused, but he **was and** **still is** a red blooded American male who likes **girls!**"

* * *

"Did you hear that?" With Greg's ankles on his shoulders, Nick fiendishly delayed their merge at the last second. "I thought I heard a woman's voice."

"It was the cat shrieking," the overly-aroused lover blurted. "Keep going."

"I really think I should check the door."

"No!" Greg locked his feet around his partner's neck. "Just…."

"Just what?" While strategically bumping up against his mate, Nick demanded words, "What do you want me to do?"

* * *

"Give it to me!" Jillian lunged for the scrapbook. She was certain the ghastly woman was only showing her a few photos that had been purposely placed in the book to prop her filthy lies.

"Take your time, look at all the photos." Connie gladly handed over the book. "There are over 200 in there." Watching the stunned mother's eyes growing wider and wider, she empathetically said, "If you've not been around gay couples, it's perfectly normal to feel a little shocked by the sight of two men being affectionate with one another and kissing."

"Kissing?" The idea of Nick pressing his lips to another man's sent a wave of horrible shivers up her spine.

Connie flipped to the photo she snuck of the boys smooching in the pool. "They didn't know I had come home early and I snapped the picture before I busted them."

When she saw Greg cupping her son's face as he kissed him, Jillian's heart sank and her mind worked overtime to justify the repulsive photo. "With everything my boy has been through, I'm sure he was just confused and looking for comfort and security in all the wrong places. That's how these things happen – one man is vulnerable and another sees an opportunity to advance his agenda. It's quite obvious from these pictures that Greg is the aggressor and Nicky the victim of a devious manipulation."

* * *

"Slow down, cowboy!" Pressing his palms to his riled lover's chest, Greg prevented him from aggressively lunging forward for another probing kiss. "It's been a while, my legs aren't as flexible." He chuckled as he panted, "I don't want to pull a hamstring and have to walk funny in front of my grandparents."

Shaking his head, Nick playfully scolded, "You know better than to skip the important post-workout cool down and stretching phase."

"I kinda skipped the workout phase too." Staring at his absentee boyfriend of eight months, Greg said, "I get lazy when I don't have anyone to workout with…and when I know I won't be getting naked with anyone."

The urge to be closer greater than ever, Nick retreated and slid next to his partner. "Thanks for waitin'," he whispered, relieved that he hadn't been replaced by another boyfriend or a string of one-night stands.

"I almost didn't this time," Greg admitted, relieved to get the truth off his chest. "You know how I took the vacation time in July we had blocked for the honeymoon? That was my deadline. If our wedding day came and went without you running back to me, my plan was to come out here for the week and bend over for as many guys as it took to get over you once and for all." While he had casually been with a few guys after Pittsburgh, he had never felt enough trust or desire to let anyone else top him.

"What happened?"

"I came out here with three boxes of condoms ready to carry out the plan, but when I got here, Skippy had just been delivered from the breeder and one look at him and all I could think about was how much I still loved you. I spent the week bonding with our puppy instead of getting laid."

"Suddenly I love your gift of a puppy twice as much."

"I wouldn't have been able to go through with it anyway." Grinning, he turned his back on his lover. "We both know I've been hopelessly yours ever since you manipulated your way into my bed in Pittsburgh and ruined me."

* * *

"Nick is **not **a victim of my son's aggression," the overprotective mother tersely stated, switching from her role as comforter to defender of her son's innocence. "Since you're insinuating Greg forced Nick into a sexual relationship, I feel compelled to set the record straight. I don't want to be too graphic, because you're already in shock, but to put it very gently...my son was a 24 year old virgin until he went on a business trip with your **very **experienced 29 year old son. Greg was a consenting adult, so I would never accuse Nick of taking advantage of him, though I'll admit I was worried at first, because he was in a position of authority over my son at the time."

Hoping she misunderstood Connie's words, Jillian anxiously said, "You don't mean that Nicky has had…relations."

While feeling sorry for the panicked woman who was desperately trying to avoid an unwanted reality, Connie saw no benefit in delaying the inevitable truth. "Nick and Greg are healthy young men in a loving, monogamous adult relationship. They share a home and a bed and, yes – they do all the normal things young couples in love do."

"Normal? I beg to differ." Her entire body shaking, Jillian said, "As a Christian woman how can you say what two men do is normal? There's nothin' **normal** about it. A man and a woman were built to make love to each other and make babies together. They fit together naturally, the way God intended."

"As a mother who lost three babies, and a Christian woman who believes no one is worthless and everyone should be loved, I have a real problem with the number of babies someone creates being the ultimate barometer of worth."

"Leavin' the baby makin' out of the equation, changes nothin'!" Jillian frantically wiped her tears as the devastating truth sunk in. "What a man can do to another man is a pointless act of unnatural self-gratification, no different than if he were to satisfy his lust with a dog or a sheep or a hole in the wall."

"What?!" Connie never believed the revelation would go well, but didn't expect to hear her son's love life being compared to bestiality. "We're talking about two **human beings** in love."

Terrified that her youngest child was doomed to hell for eternity, Jillian sobbed, "You can call it whatever you want and you can continue to brainwash yourself with that scrapbook full of happy pictures, but at the end of the day it is what it is – an abomination, an impure act of uncontrollable lust that has nothing to do with the purity of love."

Thinking back to her disturbing observations of Maci, Connie said, "I think sex is unnatural and abnormal when a self-centered husband strong-arms his wife into bed even though she's pleaded with him to wait another month before getting her pregnant with their sixth child in seven years, but I think it's perfectly natural and normal for two committed adults to physically express their love and burning passion for one another when the mood is mutual."

* * *

Their bodies pressed together, moving in perfect unison, Nick reached over Greg's shoulder for a kiss. "I can't get enough of you," he declared, after the frenetic kiss left him hungry for more.

"Maybe you should try a little harder," Greg urged and then groaned with approval when his lover gripped his hips, and yanked him onto his hands and knees. "I need…" The rest of the words came out of his mouth as groans as he submissively lowered his head to the mattress.

Sliding his hands until they gripped his partner's wrists, Nick pressed them into the billowy bedding. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you." Greg's unfiltered thoughts flew out of his mouth as hips bucked to meet every stroke. "I need you to promise you'll never leave me and fucking mean it for a change. Is that too much to ask for?"

Nick leaned forward and rasped in his partner's ear, "I was expectin' somethin' like, 'faster', 'harder', or 'pull my hair'."

Greg panted, "That would be good too."

Winding his fingers through a patch of soulmate's locks, Nick gently tugged and upped the pace. "I won't leave."

"If you do…I swear I'll find someone else."

"You'd let someone else do this to you?"

"I'd let the first guy who looked at me," Greg answered while fighting off the urge to let go.

"You wouldn't go through with it."

"I would, and when he was done, I'd let his friends in on the action."

Fueled by hypothetical jealousy, Nick pushed beyond his usual intensity. "You'd be thinkin' of me the whole time."

"No." Titillated by the resulting possessiveness, Greg added more fuel to the fire. "I'd be forgetting you the whole time."

"You couldn't forget me if you tried."

"I could if I wanted to."

Growling in his lover's ear, Nick confidently said, "You could fall into bed with a hundred different guys, but it would **always** be me when you close your eyes." He matched his next words to his movement. "It would always be me behind you…inside you."

Glancing over his shoulder, Greg boldly replied, "One guy and I'd forget your name."

"Bullshit." Feeling unusually aggressive, Nick pressed his lover to the mattress. "A hundred guys later and you'd** still** be moanin' my name."

"No."

Twisting his fingers deeper into Greg's hair, Nick smirked. "Look at you. You're dyin' to moan it right now."

Exhilarated by the uncharacteristic gruffness, Greg bit his lip not to scream the name of the man rocking his world.

"Right now. I wanna hear it."

"No."

"Did it sound like I was askin' you a question?"

"Nick," he cried out, giving into the pleasure of submission.

"Is that the name you'd shout every time?"

"Yesss."

While his lover squirmed beneath him and mingled his name with declarations and expletives, Nick basked in the desperately needed validation. "Who do you need?"

His eyes clamped shut, Greg breathlessly whimpered, "You…only you." Knowing he was on the brink, he buried his face in a pillow so his grandmother wouldn't hear him exploding.

To push his soulmate over the edge, Nick murmured in his ear, "I promise I'll never leave you."

__________________

"I don't want to hear anymore. You need to go." Tears streaming down her face, Jillian stood in the open door way. "I need to call my husband and figure out what we're going to do about this heartbreaking situation."

Heartbreaking it is." Connie reclaimed her scrapbook with pride. "You can tell your husband that there's more than enough room for Nick in my family if he no longer has a place here."

"It's my son's place in eternity that I'm concerned about. As a mother, I can't believe you aren't." Fearing the worst for her boy, Jillian cried, "A mother who truly loves her son would worry more about his salvation than his happiness on Earth. This life is temporary, but the next is endless."

"This life is temporary." Connie rolled her eyes as she strolled out the door. "I'm sure that's what Maci tells herself to get through every exhausting day of her indentured servitude; I mean her marriage to your 'normal' son."

"There is nothing wrong with Bill wantin' a son and Maci was just unusually tired today, that's all."

"Didn't you hear her? The woman thinks marriage and slavery are the same thing! That's more than being tired in my book." As she reached her car, Connie yelled, "Hey, how much would it tick off Billy if Nick produces the first male Stokes baby with a surrogate? Because if Nick and Greg want to have a child, I will **literally** pay to see that happen! Did you know that when two guys go the unnatural IVF route with a surrogate, they can select the sex of the baby? **How do you like them apples, Jill?!"** When the door slammed shut, she yelled, "To keep up, maybe Billy should selectively pick a few more verses to follow from the Bible and justify polygamy to increase his odds and his worth!"

"Unbelievable!" Once she was in her rental car, Connie steadied herself with a few deep breaths. "She's wrong and I'm right!" She quickly sought to validate her feeling of normalcy by talking to her reflection in the rearview mirror. "Greg said they were hardcore conservatives, but I had no idea. Oh my God! Greg!" Once the adrenaline of arguing with Jillian wore off, she realized she was in deep shit for coming to Dallas and outing Nick. The fact that she had a last minute change of heart and the outing happened accidentally wasn't going to make an ounce of difference. For better or worse, Nick's life had just changed forever. "What should I do? What should I do? Think! Think!" The poor boy didn't have a clue that his world was about to come crashing down around him thanks to her meddling. "What should I do, dammit?!" she asked her equally frantic reflection. Should she call Nick and warn him? Should she fly back home and try to explain she had good intentions? Only one thing was certain. "Greg is never going to speak to me again."

______________

When his ability to coherently speak finally returned, Greg lifted his face from the pillow he had used to muffle his explosive reaction. "Was I just unusually horny or was that like the hottest sex we've ever had?"

Collapsing onto his back, Nick replied, "That was definitely the hottest sex we've ever had."

"I've decided to take a sabbatical from topping."

"Change is good," Nick laughed.

"I think we should make another change."

"Yeah?"

"I think we should sell the house and move to California."

"Sure, why not."

Greg locked his eyes on his carefree partner. "I'm serious. We're happy here."

"Of course we are!" Nick chuckled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "It's not the locale, G. We don't have to work when we're here. We get to have as much food, fun, and great sex as we can handle. Who wouldn't be happy under those conditions?"

"No, that's only part of it." Greg shook his head. "We're happier here because we're living like a normal couple. We don't have to pretend we're not together, we don't have to flirt with women to throw people off, and we don't have to hide anything in front of my family. It feels good here, because it feels real. And yeah, I know we're wearing rings and we said we weren't going to take them off before work on Monday, but that's never gonna happen. Is it?"

"No, we'll probably chicken out right as we're about to leave the house for our shift." Nick corrected his answer. "**I'll **chicken out."

"And we'll go back to being a dirty little secret." Greg sighed. "In Vegas and Dallas, Skippy won't be our dog, he'll be yours. That totally sucks! In California, he's** our** dog."

"G..."

"Seriously! It's like California is our freaking Brokeback Mountain." He grumbled, "I guess I should be happy that we don't have to live in a tent and freeze our asses off every time we sneak off together."

"G! Wouldya shut up and listen to me." Nick clamped his hand over his partner's mouth to increase the odds of compliance. "I have an idea. Let's hop in the shower, get dressed, and fly to Dallas tonight."

"What?"

"I don't want to wait, and it makes sense to do it now when your Dad can watch Skippy for us. And if I can come out to my parents, believe me, I won't chicken out at work on Monday night…if I'm still breathin' by Monday night."

"You're serious?"

"Hell, yeah, I'm serious. I can't think of a better way to prove I'm serious about stickin' things out this time." Nick lunged for his cell phone from the nightstand. "I'll call Southwest for plane tickets right now."

* * *

**ANs: **

I hope the juxtaposition of the Nick and Greg scenes in CA with the Jillian and Connie scenes in TX worked for you. I'm a fan of visual juxtaposition on TV and in movies. Having Jillian looking at the photos while Nick and Greg were in bed was my little homage to the Queer as Folk episode when scenes of Justin's father confirming the truth while looking at photos in Justin's room is contrasted to scenes of Justin in Brian's bed across town.

The Stokes family members have only been glimpsed at so far, look for more layers and secrets in the upcoming chapters. No character is ever exactly what they seem when you first meet them : )

Thanks for your comments on the extra chapter I posted before the holidays! Hopefully everyone had a good week and some holiday fun :D

Thanks for reading,  
Maggs


	17. Chapter 17

**Bleeding Love – Part 17**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

After trying to reach her husband five times, Jillian resigned herself to the fact that he would be out of range until he left his remote hunting site to return home on Sunday morning. Since telling anyone else before her husband was out of the question, she would have no choice but to suffer in silence until then.

Still clutching the cordless phone, she sat down at the kitchen table and closed her eyes to ask the Lord for strength and guidance, but after only a minute of prayer, the phone rang and startled her. Thinking it was he husband returning her 'just checking in' message that she had left on her fifth try, she rushed to answer the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mama, it's Nicky."

Her son's voice startling her, she gasped.

"Are you alright?"

Jillian figured Connie had changed her mind and confessed she had flown to Dallas and accidentally outted Nick. "I'm uh…" Although she was devastated about her son's behavior, she couldn't reject him. "I'm doin' okay. How are you?"

"I'm great today. Yesterday I had a pretty big scare though. A fleeing suspect took me hostage at a scene and held me at gunpoint, but I don't have a scratch on me."

"Thank God, you're okay!" Jillian exclaimed when she realized her son could have perished.

"That's why I'm callin', I always like to hear your voice and tell you I love you when I have a close call."

Although he sounded like the same sweet boy she knew and loved, all she could see in her mind were the disturbing photos Connie had shared. "Is there another reason you called, Nicky?"

"Yeah, actually. Grissom gave the team a few days off, so I'm jumpin' on a plane to Dallas. Griss felt so bad about the hostage thing, he even figured out a way for me not to pay for the trip. He got me a guest lecturer gig with the A&M Forensics and Investigative Sciences Department. Cisco will psyched to hear that, huh?"

"Yes, that's great news, Nicky." Clearly Connie Sanders hadn't broken the news. "Your Daddy is huntin' with his cronies until Sunday."

"That'll give us some nice time alone together."

"Yes." She hoped he couldn't tell she was desperately trying not to cry. "I'd really like that." She would pray their time together would be used to convince him to repent and change his ways. Then there would be no reason to share the news with her husband or anyone else. It could be a secret between her, Nicky, and God.

"Okay, it's almost time for my flight. I won't be gettin' there 'til after midnight with the time difference and all, so I'll call you first thing in the morning. Love you, Mama."

"Love you too, sweetheart." When the dial tone filled her ear, she let her tears flow.

* * *

Wiping his eyes, Nick returned his cell phone to his pocket and hoped after tomorrow he wouldn't have to lie to his mother anymore.

"Everything okay?" Greg asked when he returned to the bedroom to grab their overnight bags and saw his partner sitting on the bed staring into space.

"I hate lyin' to her, but I don't want to tell her anything over the phone, so…" Filling his lungs with a cleansing breath, Nick jumped to his feet. "My dad's not gonna be home until Sunday, so that gives a day for us to get my mom's reaction and figure out the rest."

"I'm not sure sitting down together and telling her first thing is the way to go. What if we hang out with your mom for most of the day and let her see us together as really good friends, then maybe the leap to us being partners won't be as shocking."

Nick appreciated the sentiment, but disagreed. "We could save a hundred orphans from a burning building when we're with her, but that's not gonna make her think homosexuality isn't a sin. It's not about who we are, it's about what we're doin' behind closed doors. We could be the greatest people in the world, we could win the Nobel Prize, discover a cure for cancer, and bust a serial killer who had been preying on kids for two decades, but the second we touch each other, they'll only see two sinners who have turned our backs on God. She's not gonna accept us no matter what we do."

Greg countered, "It's easy to fear what you don't know and if the only thing she knows about gay people are what homophobes are telling her, she's only hearing stereotypes and worst case scenarios. No one ever talks about the gay computer programmers who lead quiet, normal lives, they only talk about the squick. If we go there and blurt we're gay, she's immediately going to picture the worst, we need her to see we're just normal guys who happen to be gay. It's like the hostage situation – it's harder for the gunman to shoot the hostage once they've gotten to know each other, right?"

"You wanna go to Dallas and hold my mom hostage for twelve hours?"

"Sort of." Greg smiled, "But not in a torturous way. Let's just spend the day having fun with her, doing whatever she likes to do, or showing this California boy around the city. After that I'll give you some alone time and you start talking to her about me and saying what great friends we are to each other and how we care about each other. After that, we gently lead her to the truth and deal with it however she wants to. After spending the day with us, she might actually picture us as friends who love each other exclusively, instead of sphincter-obsessed sex addicts who go to a different orgy every night looking for hairy butts to munch and big biker dudes to bend over for."

"Eww." The germ-phobe shivered from the visual.

Greg laughed, "See it's impossible to picture me doing that, because you** know** me. Your mom doesn't know me, so she'll automatically default to me being the guy whose butt you…"

"Okay!" Holding up his palm, Nick said, "We'll go with the pseudo-hostage strategy." He opened his arms. "Now hug me, 'cause I think I'm gonna faint."

* * *

Clutching five month old Molli in her arms, Maci Stokes raced from the kitchen. "Madi, honey!" She waited for her six year old to appear in the hallway. "Mama needs to get dressed and fix her hair before Daddy gets home. I'm gonna put Maggi in her swing and I need you to babysit her in the family room with her and the baby monitor. You'll earn another star for your chore chart. That's the last one you need to fill your chart and earn an hour of special time with your Daddy."

"Yay!" Madi led the way down the hall. "I'm gonna ask Daddy to take me to Build-A-Bear Workshop. Jemma went there with her Daddy and they made teddy bears together."

Knowing her husband's disdain for dust-collecting, overpriced stuffed animals, Maci sweetly said, "You know Daddy likes to do things outside." She bent down to secure the baby in the swing. "Maybe you should go ridin' with him or play mini golf."

"That stuff's not fun with Daddy. All he does is tell me what I'm doin' wrong and try to make me ride or swing better."

Having been on the receiving end of her athletically gifted and perfection-obsessed husband's overbearing coaching methods, Maci could empathize. "Okay, just shout in the baby monitor if you need me."

Madi nodded as she sang 'Itsy Bitsy Spider' for her baby sister.

With the dining room table set, appetizers ready, and crown roast of lamb prepared and ready to pop into the oven, Maci raced for the master bedroom to put on the dress her husband had asked her to wear. "Dammit." Feeling dizzy for the third time that day, she clutched her head and decided it was time to confirm what she already knew.

* * *

"It's not gonna go well," Nick told Mr. Sanders as they walked through the airport with Greg. "The best I'm hopin' for is my mom and my sister Kimberly to still talk to me on a regular basis. I'll be shocked if my father and my brother even look at me after the news, and my older sisters are all extremely conservative Christians, so I expect they'll take the 'love the sinner not the sin' approach and pray for me while lovin' me from a safe distance, but it'll really depend on what their husband's think, because they really do practice what is preached." He quoted the line he had heard his brother say every time he calls and lectures him on the benefits of marriage, "A wife is to submit graciously to her husband's leadership and has a God-given responsibility to respect her husband and serve as his helper in managing the household and nurturing the next generation."

Tossing his arm around his partner's shoulders, Greg attempted to lighten the mood. "Don't worry, Dad…Nick pulled the short straw, so he gets to be the wife in our conservative marriage."

Thinking back to his father-in-law's joke earlier, Dan replied, "It makes sense since he's the transsexual with the secret uterus."

"Yeah." Nick patted his belly. "If there's one thing the Stokes family is great at, it's makin' babies."

* * *

Opening the pregnancy test box Maci started filling with dread and praying for a negative result. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she and Billy were holding hands praying for a plus sign to signal the start of their family.

While peeing on the stick, the exhausted mother of five fantasized about alternative reasons for her dizziness, like having an operable non-cancerous brain tumor that would require her to spend a month quietly resting in the hospital, but not kill her or cause any permanent brain damage.

Finished peeing, she carefully placed the stick on a tissue on the counter and offered up one last prayer_. God please forgive me for not wantin' another baby just yet, but please, please, please don't make it a plus sign. I know I'm only here to be fruitful and multiply, but I think five in seven years is way above average for 2008 and there are so many women prayin' for babies in this world, please let one of them have a turn instead of me. I'm not bein' selfish, really I'm not, I'm just afraid I'll be too tired to tend to my husband, my girls, and this house properly if I'm pregnant with number six already. _

Tears welling in her eyes, Maci glanced down at the stick, accepted her fate, and started praying again. _God, I know you never give a person more than they can handle, so I know I'll be able to handle this pregnancy and everything else I have on my plate, but please, please, please, bless me with a boy so Billy can finally relax. _

"Maci!"

When she heard her husband's voice in the bedroom, Maci rushed to wash the tears from her cheeks. "In here!"

"There you are," Billy announced when he found his wife washing up at the sink. "You're not dressed yet?" He glanced at his watch as he undid his tie. "Mr. Weller and his family will be here in an hour." In the bathroom mirror he checked his neatly groom dark brown hair for signs of gray.

"I have something to…"

"Hey, why the hell did you put that ugly orange cloth on the table? I thought I told you to pitch that thing the last time you used it?"

"It's November and burnt orange matches the fall centerpiece I made."

"I don't care, change it. It looks like a friggin' tribute to UT. Weller's an Aggie, so he'll think the same thing and hate it just as much as me." He handed over his suit jacket and then worked open his pants. "This suit needs to go to the cleaners, that dyke Maureen knocked my coffee into my lap at the staff meetin' this mornin'." He laughed, "Jack leaned over and said 'that rug muncher just tried to burn your dick off'. We got some mileage out of that joke the rest of the day. Hey, did you pick up my favorite golf pants like I told you to? I need to wear those when I play tomorrow mornin'" After checking the time again, he smiled, "Since the kids are quiet and you haven't showered yet, let's go for number six real quick."

"Not necessary." Lifting the stick from the counter, Maci forced a toothy grin. "Number six is already on the way."

"Yes!" Billy rejoiced before cupping his wife's face and thanking her with a sloppy kiss. "Thank you. I love you." He kissed her again to make sure she knew how grateful he was. "I just know this one's gonna be a boy."

"I really hope so."

"Father of **six**!" Billy could feel the testosterone flowing through his body. "We're in the lead! Kendra, Kelly, Kirsten all said they're all stoppin' at five, and Kimberly, the family rebel, is stoppin' at two, so we may hold onto the record unless Nicky gets his shit together and finds a woman who wants a big family. Hot damn! Six! I can't wait to call my little brother and tell him you're pregnant again. Maybe if I rub it in real good this time, it will put a fire under his ass to find a wife. He should be sharin' the pressure to give Daddy a grandson, it's not fair that I have to do all the work."

"**You **have to do all the work to give your Daddy a grandson?" Maci droned. "Really?"

"Yeah, I'll call Nicky right before his shift and demand he man up and start a friggin' family already." Pumped with adrenaline, he shoved his boxers to the floor. "Since we don't need to have sex, just blow me real quick."

Her disgust for her self-centered husband returning with a vengeance, Maci cheerily said, "Sorry, there's no time. I have to change the tablecloth, remember? I wouldn't want Mr. Weller to think he was dinin' with Longhorns."

"Okay fine, you can leave the damn tablecloth there." He gently pushed down on her shoulders.

Through gritted teeth, she sweetly explained, "I'm a little nauseous from the pregnancy hormones and tired from all the errands I had to do for you and to make this last minute client dinner..."

"Oh! Sorry, I wasn't catchin' on." Billy flashed a loving smile. "Don't worry, I won't force you to swallow if you're not feelin' well."

"Wow…the stick turned pink **and **I don't have to choke down your spunk. It really is my lucky day. If only I had time to buy a lottery ticket." Nearing her limit, the exhausted wife and mother snapped, "I have a crown roast to put in the oven, five kids to tend to, and your baby to gestate. On top of all that, you seriously expect me to get you off?"

"I promise I'll be quick."

"Handle it yourself!"

"What?"

Pushed to the brink, Maci shrieked, "Jack off in the shower! Screw a donut! Take a sheep as a mistress! I don't care! Just move out of my way or your client will be gettin' his lamb extra rare!"

"Hey!" Billy yanked up his boxers so he could follow his wife. "What did I do to deserve that?!"

"Nothin'!" Maci shouted as she stormed into the bedroom. "That's the point, Billy! You don't do anything to help!"

"Whaddya call workin' my ass off to pay for this house?!" He resented her a little more every time she mocked his contributions.

"This isn't a house, it's a prison!" She marched toward the kitchen. "You're the top dog and I'm just your bitch who's expected to bend over or drop to her knees every time you bark!"

"**Ungrateful **bitch is more like it. I worked seventy hours this week to put food on the table and clothes on the kids' backs!"

"And who cooked that food and cleaned those clothes?!" she raged as she entered the kitchen. "I get **five hours of non-continuous sleep** if the baby isn't colicky, that means **I'm workin' 19 hours a day**, which is…**133 hours a week**! And my total doesn't include playin' golf with clients and eatin' lunch and dinner out with prospects!"

He laughed at the ridiculous comparison. "If I got to be home playin' with the kids all day, you wouldn't hear me bitchin'."

"**Playin'?!**" Staring at the crown roast in front of her, Maci heard Connie Sanders's words in her head _'__If I had five small children and my husband had called demanding Norman Rockwell perfection by sundown, I would have told him to shove a rack of lamb where the sun. Sweetie, you're his wife, not his slave.' _ "Since my job is so easy, a guy as talented as you shouldn't have any problem doin' it. You can start right now!" She grabbed the roast and flung it at her husband, who ducked in time for it to miss his head. "I'm callin' in sick for the first time in a decade!"

"Have you lost you mind?!"

"Yes!" Grabbing the baby's diaper bag and her purse, she informed her dumbfounded husband. "I'm takin' the baby and goin' to my sister's for the weekend. If you need help, call your mommy."

* * *

"Call me if you need anything." Dan tightly hugged his son and whispered, "Please be careful around Nick's family. I'm sure there's a shotgun over the hearth and they know how to use it." Then he moved to Nick, giving him the same fatherly hug, but different words, "I know it's not the same as hearing this from your own parents, but I'm happy you're part of my family and you will always have a place at my table. When you and Greg tie the knot, I'll be honored to call you my son-in-law."

"Thank you." Nick bit back his tears. "That really means a lot."

Stepping back, Dan nodded at the boys. "If someone has an issue with you, it's **their** issue, not yours. There's nothing wrong with you." He chuckled, "Actually, you're both a little mental, but who isn't?"

"Speaking of mental people," Greg said, "please don't tell mom where I'm going. She'll worry too much and even worse, she might decide to get on a plane and fly to Dallas to help us. I love her, I know she means well, but the last thing we need right in Dallas is Connie in one of her crazed PFLAG parent modes."

"Don't worry." Dan completely understood the request. "I'll tell her you turned off your cell phones and went on a secluded weekend escape."

"Thanks, Dad." After a wave, he turned to walk to the security checkpoint with Nick.

Nick held up their tickets. "No turnin' back now."

"Actually, we can call it off even when we're there. If you feel in your gut the time isn't…"

"The time's right."

Just as Greg was about to answer, he heard his name being shouted. "Who's that?" When he saw a Southwest Flight Attendant walking towards him, he tried to place the face.

"You guys don't remember me?" Chad feigned insult. "I was there when you got your mile high membership card. buckaroo."

"Chad," the guys simultaneously replied.

"This is so weird," the flight attendant laughed, "Greg, I just met your mommy on a flight. I saw this woman wearing a PFLAG pin and the next thing I know she was showing off her scrapbook full of photos of you in wet swim trunks and begging me to date you. It was hilarious once I recognized you. What a small world."

"His mom has a way of makin' it feel even smaller," Nick chuckled.

"Yeah." Greg nodded. "My mom gets a little over involved in my life. She was on that flight to San Francisco to…"

"San Francisco?" Just as Chad was about to say he met her on a Dallas flight, his cell phone rang. "Yes!" he rejoiced when he saw it was the stud he wanted to rendezvous with that night. "Sorry, boys, my ass is on the line here. Your mom gave me your digits, so I'll be in touch!"

Like a tornado, Chad was gone as quickly as he came.

* * *

"Mommy's gone for the night," Billy informed his daughters as they stood in the kitchen staring at him. "Her sister, your Aunt Nicolette, she wasn't feelin' too good, so Mommy went to stay there and help take care of your cousins. She'll be back tomorrow." He figured she'd come back crying and saying she was sorry by midnight.

"What about the fancy dinner?" Madi asked, looking forward to the gooey chocolate cake her mother had made.

"I called and rescheduled that for another time, so it's just us tonight." He couldn't wait to show his wife how easy her job was. "What do you girls want for supper?"

Madi informed her sisters, "We gotta pick somethin' on the grill, 'cause Daddy don't cook in the house."

"I can cook in the house." Walking over to the pantry, Billy challenged his children, "Pick anything you want for dinner and I bet I can make it twice as good as mommy."

After giggling, Madi said, "Make Chicken Pot Pie."

"Not a problem." Billy turned to face the pantry. "Where does mommy keep the pie shells?"

"You gotta make the shell, Daddy."

"Right. I'll make a shell as soon as I take care of one more business thing." He smiled at his daughters and darted off to memorize a recipe off the Internet. "I'm gonna make the best damn Chicken Pot Pie they've ever had." When he got to his home office at the end of the house, he locked the door so he wouldn't be busted by his precocious daughters.

"Come on." Madi waved her sisters over to the pantry. "I know how to make a shell." When she saw the flour was on a top shelf, she pushed a chair over. "First we need lots of flour." Teetering on the edge of the chair, she pawed at the ten pound bag. "Almost got it."

"Careful," Four and a half year old Mandi cautioned, taking on the role of their protective mother. "Mama wouldn't like this."

"Got it!" But the heavy bag immediately fell out of Madi's little hands, smacked on the back of the metal-framed chair, and split open, spilling its contents all over the tile floor. "Oops."

"I'll get the broom!" Melani yelled on her way to the backdoor to fetch the broom off the porch where she had been sweeping earlier. "Got it!"

"The dogs!" Mandi shrieked when she saw their two Golden Retrievers rush into the house. "No dogs in the house! Daddy's gonna freak!" It was what her mother always said when they spent too much at a store or didn't have their toys picked up when their father was about to walk through the door. "We gotta get 'em!"

But before the girls could catch the retrievers, the two dogs grabbed the crown roast from the counter and fled the room to find a quiet spot in the house to dine.

"First we'll clean, then we'll catch the doggies." With the broom in hand, Melani ran to clean the mess, but on her way, she slipped on the loose flour and smacked her head on the edge of the chair.

"Daddy!" Madi shrieked when she heard her little sister scream and saw blood running from her forehead. "Go find Daddy, Mandi! I'll get paper towels to stop the bleedin'!"

While her three sisters were busy in the kitchen, little two year old Molli ran into the dining room to find the big chocolate cake her mother wouldn't let her touch earlier in the day. "Yummm." She climbed up onto the table and helped herself to a handful.

"Daddy!" Mandi shouted as she buzzed by the retrievers ripping apart the raw crown roast on the eggshell white living room couch. "Daddy!" When she saw her father walking out of his office, she shouted, "Melani hit her head and she's gushin' blood all over the kitchen!"

"Oh shit!" Billy ran until he got to the kitchen. "What happened?" he asked while rushing toward his daughters.

"Careful, Daddy!" But Madi's warning came too late.

"What the fuck?" the stunned man exclaimed as he was zooming across the tile like it was a sheet of ice.

Mandi decided to try out the phrase she had just learned from her father in the hallway, "Oh shit!"

"Are you okay, Daddy?" Madi asked, when she saw him splayed on the floor covered in flour.

He tested his wrist to make sure he could still golf in the morning. "I'm okay."

Holding a wad of paper towels to her gashed forehead, Melani cried, "I want Mommy."

"Where's Molli?" Madi wondered out loud when she finally noticing her little sister was missing.

"She better not be stealin' my dolls again!" Mandi stomped out of kitchen to catch the doll thief red-handed. When she saw her two year old sister sitting on the dining room table covered in chocolate frosting she tilted her head and tried out the phrase she had just learned from her daddy in the kitchen. "What the fuck?"

"Yummmm," Molli giggled before shoving another giant handful into her mouth.

Relieved that her dolls were safe, Mandi returned to the kitchen. "Molli's okay. She's sittin' quietly in the dining room havin' some cake. "When's supper gonna be ready, Daddy?"

"Owie! You're not doin' it right, Daddy!" Melani wailed, "That burns!"

"I think we should call Grandma Stokes," Madi suggested to her father as he washed out her sister's cut using hand sanitizer instead of the non-stingy stuff her mother always used.

"No." Billy assured his daughter, "We'll be fine, we don't need grandma." He wasn't about to give Maci the satisfaction of calling for help in the first hour.

"I need a Band-Aid," Melani whimpered.

"Right." Billy surveyed the four dozen cabinets, drawers, and doors in the kitchen. "Where does Mommy keep the Band-Aids?"

"In her pocket," Madi answered. "She pulls one out and sings the Boo-Boo song while the Band-Aid dances to the owie."

"But where does Mommy get the Band-Aids she puts in her pocket?"

"Silly, Daddy." Mandi giggled, "She buys them at the store."

* * *

"Need anything?" Greg pointed to the airport shops. "Bubble gum for when your ears pop?"

"Yeah, thanks." Just seeing their flight posted on the board was making his stomach churn. "Some antacids too…and some Advil, I feel a headache comin' on."

"If you need something stronger, I've got your Valium bottle in my laptop bag." He had brought it in case Connie got on his nerves.

Nick smiled at his partner. "You're a good man to have around in a crisis, Greggo."

_**Flight 17, non-stop to Dallas is now pre-boarding all passengers who need special assistance.**_

The announcement made everything more real.

"Are we really going to do this?" Greg asked, still worried that Nick was just trying to prove his level of commitment.

"Yeah, we're really gonna do this." Nick's stomach twisted into a tighter knot. "I miss my ring." They had them in their pockets, but it just wasn't the same.

"Me too."

Catching a glimpse of the news playing on a TV in a restaurant bar, Nick added, "Straight and gay people are protestin' Prop 8 in the streets here, your mom is in San Francisco fightin' for the right for us to marry, and what have been doin'? Hidin' like a coward while everyone else fights for me. That's not right."

_**Flight 17, non-stop to Dallas last call for any passengers needing special assistance. We will begin general boarding momentarily. **_

Nick held out his hand. "I'll take that Valium now, thanks."

* * *

**ANs:**

And that chapter sets the stage for the Dallas chapters to follow.

If anyone doesn't think that 4 kids under 7 and 2 retrievers can't cause that much damage in so little time, they don't know the families and kids I know LOL

Billy isn't malicious or evil, he really believes he's a rock star husband who is doing his part. But like the show Wife Swap sometimes depicts – you don't know how good you had it until your loving wife is gone and replaced with an really inferior self-centered jerk (in this case, Billy's the replacement wife). By morning, he'll be wishing for a visit from the Supernanny and be shopping for diamond jewelry to woo Maci back.

Anyone see where this is going? LOL

Thanks for reading! And for giving feedback on the success of the juxtaposition. I really appreciated it : )

**Maggs **

P.S. I have NO IDEA how the Duggar family keeps all their kids names straight!! 18 kids all with names beginning in J! I was cursing myself for naming all the Stokes girls M names and trying to keep track.


	18. Chapter 18

**Bleeding Love – Part 18**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

Troubled by the revelation about her son and his impending visit, Jillian Stokes had tossed and turned all night, so when her usual waking time of five-thirty a.m. arrived, she gladly ended the torture and climbed out of bed to start her day.

Though she was certain that the hours ahead would be traumatic, she was anxious to begin saving her youngest child. Padding down the hall to the kitchen, the vexed mother formulated a plan of attack. First she would greet her boy with open arms and serve him his favorite breakfast. She hoped reminding him of her love and invoking happy family memories with her special 'Christmas Morning Egg Bake' would put Nick in a relaxed and trusting state. Once the love was flowing between them, she planned to delicately broach the difficult subject of his choosing vile sexual behavior over a loving, natural relationship.

* * *

When he woke up in the safety of his partner's arms, Nick whispered, "You awake, G?" They had fallen asleep in the same spoon position and apparently hadn't budged all night.

"Since five." Fearing that the drama ahead might cause Nick to flee again, Greg tightened his embrace and cherished the joy of waking up with the one he loved for the first time in eight months. "We didn't get to wake up together yesterday because you went on a cleaning binge without me, so I wanted to wait for you." He nuzzled closer. "Waking up alone every day gets really depressing." He weaved his fingers in between Nick's and squeezed. "If there's any chance that I'll be waking up alone again after you tell your parents, I don't want you to tell them. I cope a lot better with secrecy than I do loneliness, so…"

"Not a chance." Nick turned to face his justifiably concerned partner. "Are ya worried I'm gonna blame you when this all goes badly?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Yeah. One of the many nightmares I had last night was that your father had a secret code word to activate the brainwashing you went through at the 'pray away the gay camp' from hell. In my nightmare, he said the code word and it worked, you handed me back your ring and said you were going to repent."

"G, if the brainwashing didn't work in the first place, I really doubt it'll kick in fifteen years later." Brushing his thumb over his worried lover's face, Nick smiled and said, "Maybe you and I should pick a secret code word. If something has you freaked, then you say the word and I'll know you need to talk to me. If I need your help, then I'll say the word."

"We could use one of our bondage safe words."

Nick chuckled, "I don't recall havin' any bondage safe words, or any bondage for that matter."

"Pretty shocking for two guys supposedly doomed to burn in hell for their sexual depravity." Enjoying the last stress-free minutes of the day, Greg joked, "And who would believe the most risqué thing we did in this hotel room so far is cuddle."

"I'm pretty sure the couple in the next room did more than a little sinning last night." After checking in they shared an elevator with a sixty-ish overly-intoxicated well-dressed businessman and his very young, cheaply dressed, overly-perfumed date, whose name he kept forgetting in the sixty seconds it took to get to the fifth floor. "They were goin' for round two when I passed out from that second dose of Valium."

"Round two was a threesome." Greg laughed, "An old pervert, a gold-digging slut, and a Viagra. A match made in heaven, thanks to a little blue pill made in a Pfizer lab."

"Speakin' of pills." Nick lunged for the Valium bottle on the nightstand. "Let's bring a couple of these just in case things get too stressful."

* * *

Tense and exhausted from taking care of his cake-vomiting two year old daughter all night, Billy Stokes finally crawled into bed at six a.m. "Shit, I have a golf tournament in four hours." Knowing his mother woke every day at five-thirty, he reached for the phone to call her. In case Maci wasn't back apologizing by nine, he'd need a babysitter. "Hey, Mama."

* * *

"Billy?" Jillian was expecting Nick to be on the other end of the line. "You're up awful early on a Saturday. You must be golfin' today."

"_Yeah, but I don't have to leave until nine. The thing is, Maci's pregnant sister wasn't feelin' well last night, so she took the baby and went over there to help out. Could you babysit the girls while I'm at the tournament? I'd cancel, but the firm already put up the money. It's a scramble and you know they count on me to hit the long ball." _

Jillian couldn't believe her luck. "You're brother flew into town last night, I'm expectin' him for breakfast early this morning. I had planned to spend the day with him, but I'll just bring him with me after breakfast. He always loves seein' his nieces."

"_Nicky's in town?" _

"I'm just as surprised as you," she replied when she heard the shock in her son's voice.

"_With Maci havin' to leave on short notice, the house really isn't up to par. She'd be mortified if Nicky saw it any way other than perfect, so I'll bring the girls to you. I'm sure Nicky will want to hang out with me, so when I'm done with the tournament, so I'll come back to the ranch to watch the Aggie game with him instead of stayin' at the club with the guys. Maybe a little family time will remind him that time's tickin' and he better settle down and find a wife." _

"Yes, maybe it will." Wishing for Nick to see the security and happiness a healthy Christian marriage brings, Jillian asked, "Will Maci be back from her sister's in time to join us here for supper?" She wanted her confused son to observe the joy of having a loving and nurturing wife.

* * *

"What shirt do you want, Tex?" While his partner was obsessively grooming himself in the bathroom, Greg selected two shirts from his suitcase. "The 'straight as an arrow plaid button down' or the 'hint of queer tight maroon pullover'?"

"It's an Aggie game day," Nick replied as he walked out of the bathroom in a towel.

"Maroon it is." Smiling, Greg hung the shirt on the back of a chair. "I made a pot of coffee. It's swill, but at least it's caffeinated swill."

"I think I'm jittery enough, don't you?"

"Want me to chill you out?"

When his partner's circled his bare waist, Nick shyly whispered, "We can't have sex right before I see my mom."

"I was just gonna kiss you." Brushing his lips over his partner's, Greg whispered, "And tell you I love you."

"I love you too." Closing his eyes, Nick tried to forget about the upcoming drama.

"You were right, you don't need any caffeine." Intensifying his embrace, Greg whispered in his edgy partner's ear, "You're shaking."

"It's cold in here and I'm only wearin' a towel." When he lifted his eyes, he confessed, "It's warm in here, I'm shakin' 'cause I'm nervous."

Knowing there wasn't anything he could say to make his lover relax, Greg took action by kissing him passionately until he was backed against the wall.

"G, not right before we eat breakfast with my mom."

Trying to keep the mood light, Greg joked, "Don't worry, a teaspoon of you won't ruin my appetite. I'll still have room for eggs."

"Not funny."

"Come on, Tex. There's scientific theory backing me up here." Knowing exactly what his partner needed, he ignored the whining and forged on.

When his towel hit the ground, Nick whimpered, "G…really."

"This is nature's Valium." While invoking a biological reaction by trailing wet, sloppy kisses down the rapidly rising and falling chest in front of him, Greg spoke pure chemistry, "Norepinephrine, serotonin, oxytocin, vasopressin…all released in one massive dose, leaving the body completely relaxed and the mind temporarily anxiety-free."

Dazzled by the tease of a talented tongue, the fellow Chemist accepted the science behind the decision and stopped resisting. "Mmm…I'm startin' to feel better aleady."

"Who always knows exactly what you need?"

"You do." Driving his fingers through his orally skilled partner's hair, Nick tugged as he moaned, "Thanks for ignorin' my whining."

Greg glanced up smiling, "Any time."

* * *

"I realize now I had really bad timing," Billy told his wife's cell phone voice mail. "I'm sorry for pushin' for a BJ. It had nothin' to do with disrespectin' you, I swear. You know I get edgy when I'm tryin' to impress a client. I just wanted to chill out after a shit day at the office, but I realize now that you had a shit day too and I was only thinkin' of myself."

Standing in the living room staring at the crown roast blood stains all over their ivory couch, and the shredded cushions that got in the way of the two dogs fighting over a bone, the exhausted husband pleaded, "I really miss you." Glancing over his shoulder at the dining room table covered in chocolate cake smears and a million crumbs, he begged, "I can't wait for you to come home." He didn't even want to step foot in the disastrous kitchen where he attempted to make chicken pot pie twice before giving up and ordering pizza. "The house isn't the same without you. I really need you here." His daughters would be waking up shortly and he didn't want to have to deal with all four of them when they were well-rested and hungry for breakfast. "I realize now that I'm the luckiest guy on the planet." Tugging the dry cleaning bag off his favorite golf pants, he sweetly said, "Please come home right away, baby." He checked the time. "Because I really want to see you, and if you come home after nine, I'll be golfin' and the girls will be at my mom's. I love you, honey. You're the best.

* * *

"The best maid!" Maci screamed as she snapped her phone shut. "I can't believe him!" She hurled the phone at the wall, and enjoyed watching it hit the ground in pieces. "You're so full of shit!" She mocked her husband's needy little boy voice, "I need you, baby. Come home right away. I really want to see you." Her tone turning icy, she finished, "Just be here before nine or I'll be out with the boys and my mom will have to watch the kids all day instead of you!"

When little Maggi started crying, she realized how loud she was yelling. "Mama's sorry, sweetie." She rushed over to pluck her daughter out of the porta-crib. "Hush now." She rocked her youngest child in her arms. "I'm ticked at your daddy, but Mama will never stop lovin' you."

* * *

"Howdy, Mama." Standing on the doorstep of his childhood home, Nick greeted his mother with a loving smile.

"Nicky, it's so good to see…" When Jillian saw her son's secret gay lover was also on her doorstep, she froze.

"I couldn't remember if I told you on the phone or not, but my co-worker's on this trip with me. You remember meetin' Greg Sanders and his mom at the hospital, right? Nick placed his hand on his partner's back "He didn't want to impose, but I told him you were the queen of southern hospitality and wouldn't mind settin' an extra place for a friend of mine."

"Y…yes, of course." Jillian forced herself to smile at the unwanted guest. "Nicky's absolutely right, any friend of his is most certainly welcome." It felt like she was knowingly inviting a vampire into her home and giving up her power. "Please come in, Greg." Now she wouldn't be able to carry out her plan to reason with her boy and help redirect him to a righteous path.

"Thank you." While sensing there was something odd about Jillian's initial reaction, Greg retuned her polite smile with a sunny one. "Nick's told the team so much about you and growing up here, it's great to actually spend a little time in Dallas with him and see everything first hand." He quickly rationalized that the shock of an unexpected guest was making the woman jittery.

Shutting the door behind them, Nick said, "Greg's mother is always thinkin' of the team when she's in town visiting him. She invites us over for a home cooked meal and then when it's time for shift, she gives us plates of baked treats to share at work in the breakroom. I wanted Greg to know my mom is just as sweet and thoughtful."

"Thank you, Nicky." Jillian returned her son's hug and tried not to cry. "I made egg bake, ham, and cheddar biscuits. If that's not somethin' you eat, Greg, I'd be happy to fix ya somethin' else."

"Eggs, ham, and biscuits, all sound great to me, thanks." Greg studied the warm décor of the traditional ranch home. "This place is even nicer than I imagined from Nick's stories." Remembering the manners his mother had beaten into his head, he sweetly said, "You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Stokes."

"Thank you." Appreciating the young man's manners, she smiled and customarily said, "Please call me, Jillian." Then she made a beeline for the kitchen, hoping the routine task of serving breakfast would calm her nerves.

"You okay, Tex?" It appeared that all of his tension had retuned with a vengeance.

"It's a little surreal. I never thought I'd have the guts to bring you here." Nick motioned for Greg to follow him. "Kitchen's this way."

"How do you like your coffee, Greg?" Jillian asked when she heard the men entering the room.

"He takes it the same as me," Nick answered while taking a seat at the table next to his mate. Worried that his mother would wonder how he knew what Greg liked, he quickly explained, "Workin' so closely together, you can't help but learn each other's habits. Right, G?"

"Yeah." Greg burst into a smile. "We even finish each other's sentences. Catherine mocks us for it and says we sound more married than she and her ex ever did, but what really drives her crazy is when we talk across the room without words, just using nods and facial expressions."

Poking his partner under the table was their signal for oversharing. "It's kinda like a secret code we developed so suspects in the room won't know what we're thinkin'."

"Exactly." Greg jumped in to clarify, "Like if one of us finds a piece of evidence in the room while the detective is questioning a suspect. We wouldn't want the guy to catch on, because then he could panic and bolt, which is exactly what happened the other day when Nick got taken hostage. We had the guy red handed and when he knew it, he bolted into the house where Nick was working."

"But you can see I'm fine, Mama," Nick reassured his mother, "there's not a scratch on me. I got the feelin' you thought I was lyin' about things on the phone."

"You have a history of downplayin' the seriousness of your predicaments, sweetheart, so I was justifiably worried you'd be showin' up with six broken bones." Turning around to set her famous breakfast casserole on the table, she caught the two men gazing into each other's eyes and lost her appetite. "I made enough food for an army, so I hope you're hungry."

"Starving," they replied in perfect harmony.

Jillian desperately tried not to imagine how they worked up their appetites. "Great, I just need to grab the meat and biscuits." _Grab the meat? Oh Dear Lord. I can't believe I said that. _

"This looks delicious," Greg remarked as he watched Nick slice into the baked egg dish.

"I can't believe you made this, Mama. Thanks." Nick shared with his partner, "This is our traditional Christmas morning dish, kinda like your family always has Nana Olaf's kringle and strata."

Feeling compelled to keep talking, Greg told Jillian, "My mom's parents moved in when I was a kid, and they still live with my folks. We're really close. Nana took over all the cooking during the week while my parents worked. She let me help her with the easy stuff when I was little, but as I got older, she taught me how make a lot of stuff, including all of her Norwegian specialties."

"Unfortunately she taught him how to make lutefisk." Nick shivered every time he thought about the nasty smell. "That's a recipe that should be burned, not passed down to the next generation. Other than that, I love everything he makes, especially his meatballs in gravy."

"And my rack of lamb," Greg gushed with pride.

"You need to make one of those now that the weather's gettin' colder" Nick smiled at his mother, "Greg's rack of lamb is even better than Maci's, but don't tell her I said that."

"Wow, it sounds like you have impressive skills, Greg." Placing a basket of biscuits on the table, along with a platter of ham steak slices, Jillian nervously asked her guest a leading question, "Exactly how often do you cook for my son?"

"Oh, um…" Greg stretched the truth, "Nick's been a CSI a lot longer than me, so he makes a lot more money than I do. Sometimes I'm tapped out before payday and when the team goes out for food or drinks, he slips me cash to pay my share, so everyone doesn't know I'm broke. Then when payday comes, I pay him back with home cooked meals, because he misses home cooking, and after seeing this delicious spread it's understandable that he craves good food."

Forcing the issue, Jillian shifted her eyes to her duplicitous son and said, "Nicky, honey, if you would just settle down with a nice Christian homemaker like your brother did, you'd get home cookin' all the time. Then Greg could just pay you back the cash, instead of spendin' his free time caterin' to your needs. Surely he has somethin' better to do with his time." While her son choked on his eggs, she turned to the other guilty party and sweetly said, "There are probably a lot of wonderful young ladies in Vegas who would be just as impressed with your cooking skills as my boy. Unless you already have a girlfriend, Greg?"

"No. I don't have girlfriend. I…um…I think I need…" Realizing his plan was going to be impossible to carry out without large amounts of dodging and lying, Greg turned to his partner and blurted their agreed up on secret code word, "Skippy."

"I don't have any Skippy," Jillian replied on the way to the pantry to fetch peanut butter for her guest. "The grandkids prefer Peter Pan." She assumed peanut butter on biscuits was a Norwegian preference.

"This isn't working," Greg frantically whispered. "We can't lie to your mother's face all day and then expect her to..."

"Here you go." Jillian returned with the jar. "Would ya like some jelly too?"

"Yes, thank you." He needed to buy a little more time.

"Grape, raspberry, blackberry, or apricot preserves?"

"Raspberry, thank you."

"I agree, so I'm just gonna tell her," Nick whispered once his mother had her head in the fridge. Anxious to end the tortuous wait, he sucked in a deep breath and reached for Greg's hand under the table. "Mom, there's um…" But the doorbell interrupted his courageous attempt to blurt the truth.

"Your brother isn't supposed to be here for another hour." Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she hurried to answer the door.

"Grandma!" The girls cheered. "We get to play with you and Uncle Nicky all day!"

"Where's Nicky?" Billy asked as he placed his two year old daughter in his mother's arms.

"In the kitchen, but he's not alone. He brought someone with him."

"It's about damn time!" Billy whooped, as he took off running to see who was finally good enough for Nicky to bring to the ranch. "Where's my little brother and his surprise guest?!" When he saw a skinny guy wearing a loud paisley button down shirt he froze. "What the hell, Nicky?!" Wearing his disappointment like a neon sign, he grumbled, "When Mama said you brought someone home, I was stupid enough to think you came here with a woman so you could tell them you were in engaged."

"Hello to you too, Bro." Nick stood up and said, "Billy, this is my teammate I always talk about – Greg Sanders. Greg, this is my favorite brother by default, Billy Stokes."

"Nice to meet you," Greg announced as he stood and held out his hand. The six foot two jock was every bit as handsome and intimidating as he looked in photos. It was like seeing Nick five years from now and after he took massive doses of steroids. "Nick has told me a lot about you." _None of it good._

"Yeah, I've heard Nicky talkin' about you. Nice to meet ya." Billy shook the quirky looking man's hand and then walked over to throw his arm around his brother's neck and play-strangle him. "As if people aren't already thinkin' it's weird you're not married yet, now you go and bring **a guy** to the ranch before ever bringin' a girl." Releasing Nick, he shoved him aside and joked, "Could ya try any harder to look like a fuckin' fagot?"

In the moment of silence that followed the slur, Greg felt the pain that Nick had been living with his entire life.

"Billy!" Jillian scolded her son when she heard the vulgarity and saw Nick's hurt reaction. "Watch your language!" So it wouldn't appear that she was defending Nick, she added, "Your impressionable daughters are right behind me."

"He says naughty words all the time," Madi ratted out her father. "Mommy tells him no potty mouth in the house 'cause Mandi copies everything she hears."

"Lovely." Jillian scowled at her oldest son.

"Sorry, Mama." Billy took a seat at the table. "Christmas egg bake?! No way. C'mon, girls, I told ya there'd be breakfast waitin'."

"Uncle Nicky!" The nieces raced to get to their favorite uncle first.

"How are my girls?!" Nick caught all three of them in his arms and then scooped up the littlest one. "I missed y'all." He had been back at Easter and in August for a family reunion.

"Will you take us to Build-a-Bear Workshop, Uncle Nicky?!" Madi pleaded since her father had said no.

"Madeline Anne Stokes!" From his seat at the table, Billy scolded his daughter. "I told you no, that I would take you ridin' instead. I also specifically told you not to ask your Uncle Nicky to take you there. He works too hard for his money to waste it on makin' overpriced teddy bears that'll be collectin' dust six months from now. I don't want to ask anyone again, you understand me?"

"Yes, Daddy." Her hopes for a self-made teddy bear crushed forever, Madi shifted her eyes to the floor. "Sorry, Daddy."

Jillian walked over to the kitchen table. "Sorry for all the chaos, Greg. I won't be insulted if you and my son want to eat and run."

"No, this is great." Greg couldn't contain his smile. "It'll be nice hanging out with happy, living children for a change." While Nick was consumed across the room talking to his nieces Greg explained his odd comment for Billy and Jillian who were staring at him. "After dealing with victimized kids all the time, you start to forget there are still happy, loved kids left in the world. One of the first cases I worked, I found the remains of a little boy in a trashcan. His mother had left him and his brother in the care of a family member who was a prostitute and she starved him to death. We found the brother locked in a broiling hot basement only days away from death."

"Dear God." Jillian covered her mouth. "What kind of monster could do that to innocent little boys?"

"Are you always this much fun to have around, Sanders?" Shaking his head, Billy reached for a biscuit. "That's the most disturbing thing I ever heard."

"Really?" Greg sadly added, "You're lucky, because that story doesn't even make my top ten. I guess Nick doesn't talk about the job around you, sorry. My folks worry about me keeping too much in, so they like me to unload around them."

In between bites of ham, Billy chuckled, "Around here, we share our successes and keep our problems to ourselves. Right, Mama?" The comment reminded him to share his good news. "Hey, Nicky! You're gonna be an uncle again. We just found out yesterday. "

"Already?" Nick blurted. When he was visiting in August, Maci was nursing a newborn.

"Congratulations, honey." Jillian patted her boy on the back. "Your daddy will be thrilled to hear it when he comes home." She intended to use the joyous news to offset the tragic revelation that Nick was a practicing homosexual.

"Damn, I gotta go." Standing up, Billy wiped his mouth with a napkin and kissed his mother's cheek. "Thanks for breakfast and takin' care of the girls. I'll be back before kickoff. Nice meetin' ya, Greg." It was the first time he noticed the guy was wearing goofy shoes. "Girls, you be good for Grandma." He stopped to kiss each one of them on the head. "Spend the day tellin' Uncle Nicky that he needs to find a pretty wife and start makin' cousins for you girls to play with at Christmas." He winked at his bachelor brother. "Want me to bring back a babe from the tournament for ya, bro?"

"Like the last one you found for me at a tournament?" Nick cringed, "I was afraid to breathe the same air around that…" Thinking of his nieces, he watered down his description, "overly friendly girl who I'm sure had a lot of germs."

"Yeah, well." Billy laughed, "You get what ya pay for and that chick was cheap!" When he saw his mother shaking her head, he headed for the door laughing harder. "Boys will be boys, Mama!"

Once the self-absorbed, offensive, asshole was through the front door, Greg walked toward the little girls grinning. "Hey, your daddy said you weren't allowed to ask your Uncle Nick or anyone else to take you to Build-A-Bear, but he didn't say you couldn't go if your uncle's best friend offered to take you, so…who wants to go to Build-A-Bear Workshop with me and Uncle Nicky to stuff some bears?!"

"Me!" The thrilled little girls shouted at the man who their uncle had said was his best friend.

"Okay," Greg cautioned, "But I'll **only **take you if you promise to pick out really cute outfits for your bears and matching shoes and lots of accessories. You think you can do that?"

"Yeah!" The girls cheered along with their uncle.

Loving his partner for sticking it to his brother, Nick excitedly asked, "After we make bears, can we go out to the ice cream place that let's you pick toppings and get like **three toppings each?!"** He knew his brother had a boring one topping rule at those places. "Pleeeeease?"

"You bet!" Greg replied, as Nick gave him the 'I wish I could hug you' look.

"Yay!" the girls danced around the kitchen cheering, "Bears and ice cream! Bears and ice cream!"

"You're eatin' breakfast first!" the responsible grandma ordered. "All of you sit down at the table and fill your bellies. You too, Greg." Jillian shook her head at the boy who was just as much of a troublemaker as his meddlesome mother. "Eat up, because this may be your last meal after Billy gets back and finds out what you did."

* * *

**AN:**

Wouldn't Connie Sanders would be so proud of her boy? Bears and ice cream for everyone in the next chapter! Hopefully Connie Sanders isn't the type of woman who works off her stress shopping at the mall.

Thanks for reading the story and the commenting on the previous chapters, it's appreciated :D

I hope your new year is off to a great start!

Maggs


	19. Chapter 19

**Bleeding Love – Part 19**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

"Build-A-Bear opens at ten," Jillian told the girls as they carried their breakfast plates to the sink. "That gives you plenty of time to go potty, wash up, and fix your hair."

Nick smiled at his nieces as they carefully set their plates on the counter. "Mama, while you help the girls, Greg and I will clean up and load the dishwasher."

"I can't have a guest cleanin' my kitchen."

"I insist." Greg flipped on the water. "I'll rinse, you load, Tex, because I'm sure your mom has a specific way of loading her dishwasher, just like you do."

"You know it." Nick opened the door and made sure the soap compartment was full.

"I'll take the girls to my room to get ready." Jillian left the room sighing. It was hard not to like Greg or the obvious affection between him and Nick. Just like the photos in Connie's scrapbook had shown, they were happy together, but she quickly reminded herself that just because something looks good, doesn't make it right. The apples on the forbidden tree in the Garden of Eden looked sweet too, but the cost of ignoring God's wishes and indulging in sin were dire and so would be the consequences for Nicky, if he didn't repent and resist further temptations of the flesh.

* * *

Collapsing on top of the rumpled hotel bedding, Catherine moaned, "I honestly don't think I can handle more great sex, fabulous food, fine wine, or deluxe spa treatments. What about you?"

Still panting from their latest romp, Vartann could only shake his head.

"Thank God."

"Sleep." He ran his fingers through his mussed hair. "I just wanna sleep."

Planning to snooze until sundown, Catherine clicked off the bedside lamp. "Apparently there is such a thing as too much decadence."

* * *

"Welcome to Build-A-Bear Workshop," the perky blonde nineteen year old greeter waved to the three wide-eyed little girls in front of her. "Well hello there, little ladies. My name is Lindy and I'm so beary happy that you came into the workshop today. What are your names?" After the girls replied, she asked, "Have you ever been here before?" When they all shook their heads, she winked and said, "Well then let me tell you how it works." She glanced at men behind the girls and said, "Okay, dad, here's what you do first."

"I'm not their dad," Nick quickly corrected the sales associate. "I'm watchin' them while their daddy plays golf."

"He's our Uncle Nicky," Madi sweetly told the pretty lady. "And this is his friend Greg." Hugging her bear building savior, she dreamily declared, "He's very special."

"Oh." When she finally caught on, Lindy blushed. "Well aren't y'all lucky to be spoiled by your uncle and his very special friend today."

Just as Nick was about to correct the young ladies correct assumption that he and Greg were partners, his mother walked in strolling two year old Molli, who had fallen asleep the second they put her in the stroller.

"Did we miss anything?" Jillian asked. A friend had stopped her on the way in and she had promised to only chat for a couple of minutes.

"No, we were just finidin' out what to do first." Nick returned his attention to the shop clerk.

"Come this way." Lindy waved for the group to follow her. "First you need to decide what you're gonna stuff." Pointing to the variety of choices, she said, "They start at ten dollars and go up. The prices are clearly marked. After you go through the stuff and fluff phases, it's up to you if you want to purchase clothing or accessories for your new friend, but a birth certificate, hair bows, and a cardboard home is included in the base price. If you have any questions, any sales associate will be happy to help you. Have fun!"

When Nick saw his two year old niece was still out cold, he said, "I can't believe little Molli is missin' all the fun." Worried about her health, he asked his mother, "Is it normal for her to be this tired at 10 in the morning?"

"No," Jillian felt the little girl's forehead. "Maybe she's comin' down with somethin'."

While Greg helped the twins pick animals to stuff, Madi cleared up the mystery, "Molli was throwin' up chocolate cake all night, 'cause Daddy wasn't watchin' her and she ate the whole cake by herself, and it was huuuuge."

"Where was your daddy all that time?" Nick quizzed, assuming it would take a while for a two year old to eat a large cake.

"Chasin' the dogs, pickin' up lamb bones, wipin' up Melani's blood, tryin' to make a chicken pot pie better than mommy, and orderin' pizza when he couldn't make a shell." Madi shook her head. "Mommy's gonna freak when she sees the house."

"What the fuck?" Mandi said as she tried to figure out which animal to pick.

Greg stared at his partner, "Did you hear that?"

"Mandi, honey." Jillian bent over to see eye to eye with her granddaughter, "Those aren't nice words you just said. Where did you hear them?"

"Daddy yelled them last night when he was slidin' on the slippy flour on the floor."

"Nice," Nick grumbled, "What else did your daddy say last night?"

"The bad 's' word!" Madi tattled before asking, "Is ungrateful bitch bad words? That's what he was yellin' at mommy before she had to go to Aunt Nicolette's house."

"Uh." Nick wasn't sure if he should say yes, because then his niece would know her father called her mother bad words. "Mama, do you wanna help me out here."

"They have bunnies!" Greg gleefully shouted before shoving one in Madi's face to make her forget she asked a question. "I love bunnies! Do you love bunnies? They have really, really tickly ears."

Madi giggled as the silly man made the rabbit's long ears tickled her nose. "I wanna stuff a bunny!"

"Right this way." Relieved his deflection technique worked, Greg winked at his partner and scooted Madi toward the stuffing machines. "What are you going to name your bunny?"

Forgetting the crisis she had planned on dealing with that day, Jillian whispered to her son, "I'm startin' to think that Maci isn't helpin' out at her sister's."

"Walkin' out on Billy sounds a little closer to the truth."

Jillian pressed her palm to her chest. "That explains why the girls came to the house with empty stomachs and no supplies. If Maci was goin' to help out at her sister's she would have prepped everything before she left. I don't know why I didn't suspect somethin' was up, because she's never left the girls in Billy's care."

"Let's have fun with the girls and I'll talk to Billy when he shows up at the house, okay?" He pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Don't worry, Mama. I'm sure it was just a stupid argument and everything will be fine by supper."

"Maybe the pregnancy hormones got the best of her," Jillian rationalized as she watched Greg entertain all three girls. "He wasn't kiddin' when he said he couldn't wait to spend the day makin' children happy."

"He said that?" Nick burst into a smile when Greg held up a stuffed puppy and told the girls it reminded him of his dog Skippy.

"Yes, he said after only seein' child victims on the job, it's easy to forget there are still happy children left in the world."

"It's sad, but that's the truth." Nick's smile faded. "We only get to see kids on their worst day, never their best. It can get pretty depressing if you don't decompress." Watching Greg conduct an impromptu puppet show, his grin returned, "Fortunately for me, I have Greg around to…"

"Nicholas Stokes!" a female voice shrilled into the store. "It really is you!"

Jillian and Nick turned on a dime to see who it was.

"I can't believe you, Nicky! Or you, Mama!"

When Jillian saw her daughter Kimberly marching toward them, her shopping bags flapping as she stomped, she knew both her and Nicky were in trouble. "He just got here, Kimberly. I swear. We were havin' breakfast and then Billy dropped the girls off and they begged Nicky to take them somewhere. He planned on callin' you as soon as we were done with bears and ice cream."

"Sis!" Forgetting the rest of the world for a moment, Nick hurried to hug his favorite sister, who was two years older than him and in between him and Billy. "I shoulda figured you'd be shoppin'." Kim's husband, Russell, was away on business four days a week, so on Saturdays, he took both of their boys on all-day adventures while Kimberly got to refresh herself at the mall or spa. Then every Saturday night, they had a babysitter watch the kids so they could have a night on the town and refresh their marriage. Out of all of his siblings, they seemed the happiest, but they were also the richest thanks to Russell's business, and had the least amount of children, so it always made sense to Nick that they were least stressed. "You look great."

"So do you, sugar, 'cause you stopped shavin' your head." Smiling, she fussed with his hair just as she had done since they were little. "Now what are you doin' in town on the sly?" Noticing an unfamiliar man standing next to her mother, she asked, "What's with the cute guy standin' next to you, Mama? Daddy goes huntin' and you find a boy toy? As if that wasn't scandal enough, you take your young stud to build a teddy bear? What will they say at church on Sunday?"

"That's Greg!" Madi excitedly shared, "He's Uncle Nicky's very special friend."

"Oh." Kimberly flustered, "Um…well, I can't say that I'm surprised, Nicky, but I never imagined gettin' the official word from my six year old niece at Build-A-Bear of all places. Don't get me wrong, I'm not upset about the news, just that you didn't think you could tell me." Stunned that her conservative mother was out shopping with Nick and his partner and that she didn't seemed the least bit uncomfortable, the shocked daughter asked, "How long have you known about this? I can't believe he told you before me. Who else knows?" The more she thought about it, the more hurt she felt. "Billy must know if his girls know. I can't believe Billy knows and I don't."

While Nick and Greg remained frozen like deer in headlights, Jillian stammered, "He…I…I don't know what you mean. Told me what? I don't know what you're talkin' about." She hoped playing dumb would end the discussion. "How long have I known what?"

Since her brother looked as shocked as their mother, Kimberly panicked and shooed her nieces away. "Go pick outfits and stuff for your bears! Aunt Kimberly will buy you whatever you want. Go on!"

Far more interested in bears than confusing grown up talk, the three sisters dashed off to fill their arms with stuff.

"I'm Nick's CSI teammate." Greg announced when everyone else was silently suffering. "Madi thinks I'm a **very special** friend, because I'm the one who said he'd take her to Build-A-Bear when her father told her he wouldn't."

"Oh!" Kimberly laughed until she remembered that she had just told her brother that it didn't surprise her that he was gay. "Nicky, I hope you know I was totally jokin' when I said I wasn't surprised to find out you were..." she lowered her voice to a whisper, "gay. I was just yankin' your chain since you didn't call to say you were in town. Of course you're not…" she whispered, "gay."

"Actually, I am," Nick blurted, once he realized his mother and sister already had their suspicions. "And Greg is a very special friend," he announced while pulling the ring from his pocket and slipping it on. "We've been together for years and plan on marryin' as soon as it's legal again in California."

"Tex!" Greg couldn't believe his partner was outing himself at the mall. "Here?! Twenty years keeping a secret and you blurt it at Build-A-Bear Workshop? Seriously?" It was exactly the opposite of their agreed upon strategy.

"Twenty years?" Jillian stated in disbelief. "You were fifteen when…" She covered her gaping mouth.

Seeing tears in his mother's eyes, Nick reflexively said what he always did when he let her down, "I'm sorry, Mama." Suddenly overwhelmed, he rushed out of the store.

"Nicky!" she yelled as she darted after her brother, her shopping bags flapping in the breeze. "Wait for me!"

Watching his partner and his sister fleeing, Greg wanted to shout, 'Don't you dare leave me here to handle your mother', but instead he took a deep breath, faced the teary woman, and quietly said, "I'm very sorry it happened like this." He checked to make sure the girls were still happily occupied, and then he continued, "The plan was to sit down with you at home and tell you privately, but then Billy showed up with the girls, and we came here. I think Nick's nerves got the better of him and he had to let it out."

"I already knew," Jillian announced as she stealthily wiped her tears.

"I thought you might." Greg curiously asked, "How long have you known?"

"Since yesterday, when your meddlesome mother paid me an unexpected visit with a scrapbook full of you and Nick." When she saw the boy's eyes widen to saucers, she compassionately added, "In all fairness, she chickened out the second I answered the door and was about to leave without sayin' a word, but then her tote fell, the scrapbook landed open on the floor, and your secret relationship was a secret no more."

"I can't believe she…" Anger surging through his veins, he would have screamed if he weren't surrounded by happy children making teddy bears.

"She said she was tired of the secret makin' you and Nicky suffer. She believed the secret was ruinin' your relationship." Jillian took a cleansing breath. "I also think she believed she could convince me that nothin' was wrong with what you have goin' on, but we didn't see eye to eye and I asked her to leave."

"She lied to all of us," the betrayed son rested a hand on his head. "She told me and my dad that she was in San Francisco working with PFLAG members to overturn Prop 8."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have no doubt her actions were motivated by love, Greg." Standing her ground, Jillian said, "But so are mine. This relationship you have with my son will be his eternal undoing and as his mother I can't bless it. As much as I like you and love my son, how you're choosin' to live is a sin and until the behavior stops, you are livin' apart from God."

Not worried about himself, Greg nervously asked, "So um…where does that leave your relationship with Nick?"

"I'm not gonna turn my back on Nicky. I'm his mother and I will always love him. I won't be in attendance at your ceremony, because that would mean I endorse what you're doin'."

"And what about everyone else?"

"I'm sure Kimberly will take her family, rhinestone-collared pocket Chihuahua included, to your weddin', but to be brutally honest…I expect the rest of his siblings to be appalled and not let their kids hang out with him anymore."

"Greg! Greg!" Madi came over to show him the ballet outfit she picked for her pink-eared bunny. "I'm gonna make a ballet bunny." She grabbed his hand. "Can we stuff her now? Pleeeease."

"You bet." While his heart was breaking for Nick, Greg pushed out a smile for the innocent little child. "Go round up your sisters first so we can stuff everything at the same time." When the girl was gone, he turned to Jillian. "I just want you to know that at least in this life, you don't have to worry about Nick, because your son is safe with me." Pulling his ring out of his pocket, he slipped it on his right hand. "In the years we've been together, I've never hurt him or betrayed him, and I never will. Even though I don't agree with your beliefs, I respect your right to have them."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." Greg made a final pitch. "I just hope respect works both ways, because the last thing Nick needs after everything he's been through, is more drama in his life. He may seem fine, but he's not. He still has PTSD moments from the coffin, among other issues. He's getting help and he's getting better, but I'm begging you to do what you can to keep the rest of the family from traumatizing him, especially your husband. If the choices are harassing him and ignoring him, he'd rather be ignored."

Jillian bristled, "What makes you think my husband will traumatize Nicky?"

"Ready, Greg!" Madi announced with both of her sisters at her side. "Time to stuff!"

* * *

"You sure you won't eat somethin' before you go?" Nicolette asked her sister who looked exhausted and pale.

"No, I'm still feelin' real queasy. All I need you to do is watch the baby for me for until this afternoon while I go home and pull myself together." With the girls at her mother-in-law's and Billy gone until at least eight, she was hoping for six hours of uninterrupted sleep and some quiet time in the house. "I've pumped plenty of milk, so you should be fine until I come by and pick her up on the way back from the ranch later."

"Don't worry about a thing, sis." Nicolette hugged her sister tight. "Just get some rest and promise me you'll eat somethin' when you wake up."

"I promise."

* * *

"I swear, Nicky, if you don't stop walkin' and talk to me I will throw a shoe at your head!" Even though her feet were aching from trying to catch up to her brother, Kimberly wasn't about to give up. "For Pete's sake, Nicky, I've known for eighteen years!" she shouted as they raced across the grass and further into the park. "And I'm fine with it! The only thing I'm not fine with is you runnin' away from me!"

"Eighteen years?" Incredulous, he turned to face his sister. "And you're fine with it?"

"Oh thank God." When he finally stopped speed walking, she plopped on a nearby bench, released her shopping bags from her sore hand, and kicked off her designer shoes.

Approaching cautiously, Nick said, "What do you mean you've known for eighteen years?" When she pointed to the empty space on the bench next to her, he followed orders and sat.

"That weekend Mama and Daddy went to a weddin' in Skokie and I was stayin' over Charlene's house, you said you were gonna be home all weekend workin' on your science fair project with Kevin Hardy." After making sure there wasn't anyone close enough to hear, she shared, "I forgot my fake ID, so I had to come back home. Before goin' to my room, I went to the kitchen to pack a bag of food, 'cause Charlene and I had the munchies." She winked, "Don't worry, officer, we didn't buy the pot illegally, we stole it from Charlene's brother."

"All things considered, I'm definitely not gonna hold it against you, sis." He hugged her tight and was relieved when she returned the hug instead of acting like he had the plague. "Thank you, now finish the story."

Smiling at her teary-eyed brother, she said, "When I got to the kitchen, I heard the dryer goin' in the laundry room. It was my week to do the laundry, so I knew you wouldn't do any unless you had to. I figured you had messed your sheets."

Realizing where the story was going, Nick lowered his head into his palm.

"When I got upstairs, I heard voices and noises, so I pressed my ear to your bedroom door to spy. It took me all of ten seconds to figure out what was goin' on in there." She calmly said, "Billy was always checkin' out my girlfriends, but you were always checkin' out my boyfriends, so I had my suspicions, but that day when I heard you and Kevin perfectin' the art of the mutual hand job, I knew for sure."

"I can't believe you never let on that you knew."

"I figured if you wanted me to know then you'd tell me and I was never 100 percent sure." Kimberly explained, "It's not like you weren't kissin' girls and talkin' about them with Billy. What if I said somethin' and you were just goin' through a phase? It would have been this awkward thing between us forever. I also thought there was a possibility that you weren't gay, that you just hooked up with guys because you knew the Judge wouldn't approve and bein' a rebel turned you on." She giggled, "That's exactly what prompted my one night stand with the captain of the woman's softball team my sophomore year."

"What?!"

"It wasn't for me." She laughed, "I liked what she did to me just fine, but when I had to return the favor, I hated every second. That's how I know bein' gay isn't a choice, because I really wanted to go to the ranch with a girlfriend and announce I was a lesbian in love, but as much as I wanted to tick off the Judge, it wasn't worth givin' up men."

"So you found other ways to piss him off like blowin' off law school, marryin' a Methodist, only havin' two kids, and buyin' designer sweaters for your pocket Chihuahua?"

"To name a few, yes." Her grin faded, "As much as I've paved the way, sugar, I'm afraid your news will trump the sum of my rebellious actions."

"He already knows."

"What?!" It would have been less shocking to hear aliens were taking over the mall. "When did you tell him? Is that why he went huntin' this weekend?"

"No." Nick's eyes flooded again. "He found out fifteen years ago when he caught me with my boyfriend at A&M. It's a long story with a very unhappy ending, but remember how I didn't come home for Spring Break my sophomore year? The Judge told everyone I got offered an internship I couldn't turn down, but the truth was…" Biting back his tears, he said, "He had me locked away at rehabilitation camp and has convinced himself that I was cured."

"I can't believe Mom let him do…"

"He never told her." Nick wiped his tears as fast as they came. "That was the deal. If I stayed at the camp and did what I was told, then we would never speak of it again and act like it never happened. If I didn't do as I was told, then he was gonna kick me out and make it clear that y'all were to have nothin' to do with me."

Stunned by the revelation, the devastated sister asked, "How long were you locked away there?" She opened her purse to fetch tissues for both of them.

"Twenty-eight days, every one of 'em pure hell."

"My God. How did you get through it?"

Taking the tissue he was offered, Nick sadly replied, "The same way I convinced myself to suffer in that coffin instead of killin' myself…I focused on the guy waitin' for me on the outside." To avoid telling more of the emotional story, he deflected, "I shouldn't have left Greg to handle Mom and the girls."

"Oh! That poor man." She tried to force her feet into her shoes. "Damn, this was not the right day to break in my Manolos."

"Manolos?"

"Don't look at me like that, I didn't pay for the them." Opening one of her shopping bags, she pulled out the rhinestoned flip flops she had bought earlier. "The Manolos were a gift from Russell. He saw the Sex and the City movie on a flight and bought them for me when he got to LA."

"Greg bought me a coonhound puppy." Thrilled to finally have someone to brag to, he said, "It's ten months old and he's just the sweetest dog you'd ever meet."

"Aww, what's his name?"

"Skippy."

"You named a coonhound Skippy?"

He laughed, "It's a reeeeeally long story."

"Since you ran a half mile from the store, we have plenty of time." Taking her brother's right hand, she studied his ring. "You took off you're Aggie ring to wear this?" She grinned, "It must be love."

"Yeah."

"Does Greg treat you right?"

"Much better than I deserve."

"Is he committed to you?"

"He didn't even sleep around when we were broken up."

She delicately asked, "Are you both healthy?"

"Physically, yeah, but mentally I'm a little off."

"Yeah, well, which one of us Stokes kids isn't? I carry around a purse puppy and when my boys are in school, I spend all my time spoilin' needy kids in shelters. That screams 'little girl with issues'. Our three big sisters are still competin' for the 'Mom and Dad's favorite' award in their forties, each tryin' to balance marriage, five kids and law careers. When Kirsten found out last week that Kendra was in the running for a top spot at her firm I thought her head was gonna explode from tryin' to look happy for her sister while plottin' the bitch's demise. Then Kelly trumped them both by sayin' she was gettin' an award. At the rate things are goin' the three of them will be killin' each other under the Christmas tree and for what? Billy will always be the chosen one."

"Billy told us this morning that Maci's pregnant with number six."

"Are you kiddin' me? That poor woman already lives like an overworked mule horse."

"Does she have any help?"

"Help?" Her blood boiling, Kimberly shared, "Even though Billy is makin' bank, he says he won't let Maci hire a maid, because he can't stomach the thought of strangers touchin' his stuff, which I can believe, because his picture is in the dictionary next to control freak. There's more to it though, he thinks it will look as though his wife isn't able to manage a house and the kids, then the men at his church will have braggin' rights that their wives can draw upon the Lord and find the strength to do it all."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yes!" she ranted, "If it was just the house and kids she had to take care of she'd be fine, but it's the added pressure of bein' at Billy's beck and call twenty-four seven while havin' to look like the perfect pageant queen she was when they met. I told him it's gonna look worse at church when his wife is wearin' a straight jacket in a mental hospital."

* * *

Excited to have hours of rest ahead of her, Maci hurried into the house already dreaming of resting in her fluffy bed. "What the…" With every inch of the place in shambles, she couldn't believe she was standing in her kitchen. "I can't believe he did this to punish me." Tears springing from her eyes, she carefully navigated the mess to get to the hall, but when she saw the dining room and living had been similarly trashed, she was too sickened to walk another step. "No. This isn't happening."

"He hates me." Her overwhelmed mind told her run and not look back, but her heart belonged to the children, and running wasn't an option. With no energy and no options, she slid down the wall, clutched her throbbing stomach, and sobbed uncontrollably.

* * *

"Wait 'till you meet the girls' mother, Greg. Maci is a wonderful woman." Jillian smiled at her beautiful granddaughters as they fluffed and brushed their newly stuffed animals. "The girls are every bit as sweet and gorgeous as her. She's exactly the kind of loving, family-focused, Christian woman I always dreamed my boys would marry." When she realized what she had just said, she anxiously cleared her throat. "I don't know where I went wrong with Nicky."

"You didn't." Trying to joke his way through the awkward situation, Greg smiled and said, "Maci may be a perfect ten and have the wife and mother thing down, but according to Nick, I make a better rack of lamb than her, and I bet she can't process DNA results in record time – that's how I won his heart. He was consumed by this case involving the rape and murder of a little girl, but there wasn't enough evidence to press charges against the guy he knew did it. Nick doesn't let go of a case easily and if there's a child involved, forget it, he'll work it 'til he's falling asleep standing up."

Jillian's mouth curved into a proud smile.

"When Grissom told CSI Stokes that the Sheriff wanted the scene released, Nick rushed back there for one more look and he found blood evidence they had missed." Greg proudly shared, "I thought he was going to plant one on me in the DNA lab when I handed him the test results and told him it was a perfect match to his suspect." Grinning from the memory, he shared, "Instead he told me 'breakfast is on me, Greggo'. I assumed he meant at the diner, but when shift was over, he surprised me and said, he was going to cook breakfast for me at his place."

"Nicky's a terrible cook."

"Yeah, but they were the best terrible eggs I ever had." Risqué details prevented him from summing up the rest of breakfast, and since he knew Jillian wouldn't be impressed by Nick capping off their passionate love making by asking him to move in and live together as partners, he left off that part too. "You had two sons and raised them the same way in the same house. They both played football, went to church regularly, and had girls flirting with them when puberty hit. All conditions being equal, one grew up and wanted to marry a sweet girl named Maci, the other one grew up and wants to marry a goofy geek named Greg. That's not your fault, Jillian, take it from the DNA guy…it's genetics."

"We're back!" Kimberly announced as she snuck up behind Greg and her mother. "And all is well." While Nicky and their mother embraced, she turned to hug her brother's partner. "Welcome to the family." She didn't have the heart to tell him it was probably the only welcome he would get. "I told Nicky there will always be a place at my table for the two of you."

"Thank you." It meant a lot to Greg that Kimberly accepted him, but he was even happier for Nick. "You may regret welcoming a Sanders into the family after you meet my mom."

"Maybe I'll fly out to California and help her with weddin' plans."

"As if she'd let you have a say," Greg laughed and slapped his leg.

"Really, huh?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to fly to LA to encounter the life force that is Connie Sanders, you'll get to meet her today if you hang with us." Greg had used Jillian's cell phone to text his mother and set up a trap. "She and her tell-all scrapbook have been invited to visit Jillian at the ranch at one." Ready to blast his mother for a lifetime of meddling, he rubbed his hands together. "I can't wait."

* * *

**ANs:**

Greg can't wait and I can't wait to write that scene :D

Thanks for reading and your feedback on the last chapter! I was happy to hear it felt like the tension was building.

Maggs


	20. Chapter 20

**Bleeding Love – Part 20**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

"Tea party time!" the twins cheered upon returning to their grandmother's house. Greg had promised they would have a tea party with their new stuffed friends as soon as they got back. "Can we use the fancy dishes, Grandma?"

"Of course." Jillian waved the girls to follow her into the kitchen.

Feeling sorry for her brother's partner, Kimberly offered, "I can tea party with them if you've had enough fun for the day."

"No way." Greg held up the geek bear he had stuffed. "Mr. Peabody loves finger sandwiches and girl talk"

Nick smiled at his sister, "He has a very active imagination."

"Yeah." Kimberly teased her brother. "I bet that comes in handy in the bedroom."

"Sis." Nick stared at the floor.

Walking into the kitchen, Greg decided to tease his future sister-in-law, "Actually, we're saving ourselves for our wedding night."

Kimberly laughed at the idea. "Since Nicky inherited the insatiable Stokes libido, I find that really hard to believe."

* * *

"How's your game today, Billy?" Missy Winslow asked her best customer as he took a seat in the country club lounge.

"I won it all, sweetheart." Billy grinned at his three team members. "I mean **we **won it all, didn't we boys?"

"It was all him," 56 year old Stan Felper grumbled, "The rest of us suck, that's why we only sign up for scrambles when jocko is around to hit the long ball."

"Aww." The playful 23 year old rubbed Stan's balding head. "At least you have your looks." Tossing her silky golden hair off her shoulders, she laughed, "And a shitload of money, which is really the only thing that matters, so don't let your golf score get you down, honey."

"Money's all that matters, huh?" Clint Schlosser asked the plucky waitress, "Would you marry Stan if he left his wife?"

"No, but I'd fly off to Kauai with him right now if the price was right." Turning to the rich stud she'd been trying to bed and trap for a year, she seductively teased, "Just in case you were wonderin', Billy, I'd let you take me Kauai for free."

"Watch out, Missy," Clint warned the red hot beauty, "After the night he had with the old ball and chain, he might take you up on your offer."

Craving a little female validation, Billy winked at the babe. "Good to know, sweetheart. I'll ponder the offer over a double of my favorite scotch. Bring a round for my boys too."

"Comin' right up." Sashaying away, Missy started dreaming up ways to get Billy away from the group.

* * *

Wanting a few minutes alone with her daughter, Jillian turned to her son and said, "Nicky, how about you and Greg watch the girls outside on the playset while Kimberly helps me make the finger sandwiches and tea."

"Sure thing." Nick clapped his hands. "Okay, ladies, you heard your grandma. We're goin' outside for some fresh air." He scooped up his two year old niece who was clutching the stuffed kitty they made for her while she was snoozing. "Do you want to swing or slide, little Miss?"

"Swide," she giggled while her uncle tickled her.

"I want Greg to push me on the swing!" Melani shouted, hoping to claim him all for herself.

"Greg is supposed to play with me next!" yelled Madi. "You and Mandi got to sit next to him at Cold Stone and in the car! Right, Uncle Nicky?"

"Yep."

"Story of my life," Greg told Jillian and Kimberly on his way to the back door. "The only women who think I'm cool are grandmas and little girls. I've never had women over ten or under sixty fight over me."

Once they were alone, Kimberly proudly said, "Mama, you're handlin' this situation much better than I thought you would."

"Only because I've brainwashed myself into believing that Greg is just a good buddy, nothing more." Fetching a loaf of bread from the drawer, the overwhelmed mother said, "I'm pretending that Nicky's back in high school and Greg is just here to toss a football or study, like that nice boy Kevin Hardy who was always hangin' around here."

"Greg does have somethin' in common with Kevin Hardy." Kimberly stared at her mother until she caught on.

Jillian gawked at her daughter. "You're not sayin'…" When she saw her nodding, she clutched the loaf of bread to her chest. "No."

"Yeah, homework wasn't the only thing Nicky and Kevin were tryin' to figure out together." Putting her arm around her devastated mother's burdened shoulders, the supportive sister and daughter said, "I know how you feel about homosexuality, Mama, but try to focus on the positive – your son looks happier than he has in years, and Nicky assured me that Greg is a sweet, well-educated, responsible, healthy, faithful man who treats him right, not some horrible, self-absorbed cad who sneaks around behind his back." She directed her teary mother to glance out the window. "Watch the way they look at each other and how they are with the girls. It's love between them, not unholy lust."

"It's not this type of behavior that's an abomination, it's what they do in private." Jillian shook her head. "You can't rationalize away scripture."

"Sorry, Mama, but when ten churches can read the same scripture and have ten different interpretations, I can't support denyin' Nicky a happy life based on one interpretation, especially considerin' how fickle some churches are when it comes to changin' what they think down the road. It wasn't too long ago that churches in this part of town would've called a black man and a white woman an abomination and used scripture to back it up."

"That has nothin' to do with your brother hurtin' himself."

"If Nicky were shootin' heroin, then I'd be organizin' an intervention, but he's not choosin' to be gay, he just is."

"I think he's confused because of what that evil babysitter did to him as a child." Jillian held her ground, "He doesn't want to be with a woman, because a woman made him suffer."

"If we follow that logic, then every woman who suffered at the hand of man would be a lesbian, which by my account would make almost half the world gay, and while we're on the topic of women, let's not forget that scripture was used to keep women as second class citizens." Stuffing her hands on her hips, Kimberly ranted, "How would you have liked it if you had been told havin' a career outside the home was a sin? Obey wasn't taken out of a wife's marital vows until recently and it wasn't all that long ago that women couldn't vote because they were inferior to men based on what the Bible said. So forgive me for not hangin' my hat on today's Biblical interpretations. No, this white woman who just voted for a black president is goin' to her gay brother's wedding, and ten or twenty years from now when gay is okay and your church is targeting a different minority group, I won't have to look back and regret not bein' there for my brother on the happiest day of his life."

"You really shouldn't have dropped out of law school," Jillian huffed, feeling conflicted.

Watching the two men dote on the girls, Kimberly burst into a smile. "I think I just figured out the best way to piss off the Judge. I'll offer to be a surrogate mother for Greg's baby, that way it will be half Stokes and half Sanders."

Jillian laughed at her rebellious daughter. "Yes, I'm sure that would rile your daddy much more than you not gettin' your law degree or carryin' around a pocket puppy in a pink sweater."

Kimberly dashed for the back door. "I'll go tell the boys right now."

"You were serious?!" Intent on preventing the offer, Jillian raced outside. "Nicky, honey! Could you do me a favor?" While waiting for her son, she glared at her headstrong daughter. "Not with the children present. Do you hear me, Kimmie?"

"What do you want me to do?" the dutiful son asked as he lowered Mandi from his shoulders.

"Your brother dropped off the girls without any supplies and three of them dripped ice cream all over their shirts. I don't like my granddaughters lookin' a mess, so would you head on over to Billy's and grab some clothes for the girls? Bring Greg with you."

"Actually, I'd like a little time alone with you, Mama."

Hopeful that maybe her son was rethinking his behavior, Jillian perked up.

"Hey, G!" Nick waved him over.

"He calls him 'G'." Kimberly beamed a smile at her mother. "Isn't that cute?"

Jillian declined to answer her daughter who apparently thought observing the behavior of her openly gay brother was as entertaining as watching a new puppy. "I'll get the spare key for Billy's house."

* * *

"Another round, Billy?" Missy made sure her cleavage was at her target's eye level.

"You know it, honey," He replied while eyeing the blonde beauty's D cups. Joking around in front of the guys, he winked at the hottie. "While you're off fetchin' our drinks, maybe I'll check on flights to Kauai."

Missy strutted away pondering bikini choices.

"Are you serious about takin' her to Kauai?" Stan asked while filling with jealousy.

"No, of course not. I'd never cheat on Maci." Wearing a shit-eating grin, Billy relaxed in the leather arm chair. "Missy knows I'm jokin'. It's what we do, she flirts and makes me feel like a million bucks, and then I leave her a nice tip for her efforts." He laughed, "I'm turnin' forty this year, guys…before I know it, I'll be as old as you Viagra-addicted geezers, so I need to get my ego stroked while I still can." He polished off the scotch in his glass. "Especially since my wife stopped strokin' it years ago."

Stan nodded, "My wife stopped strokin' me after our honeymoon."

Clint shook his head at the two married idiots. "I'm glad I had the good sense to pay off Anita and get out of my marriage. If I begged her for sex one more time, I swear she woulda sliced off my pecker in my sleep."

Bob, the CFO of the firm, laughed into his empty scotch glass. "Kinda makes you wonder why queers are fightin' for the right to marry. If there were a bunch of hedonistic chicks willin' to give it away in dark corners of a club, I'd happily fork over the membership fee, pop a Viagra, and bang sluts 'til my balls turned blue. If a guy could get away with it, why would he give up orgies and anonymous sex for monogamy?"

* * *

"I intend on spendin' the rest of my life with Greg." On the drive to his brother's house, Nick hoped he could eliminate some of his mother's lesser fears, if not her biggest one. "I know it's not the path you wanted for me, but except for the gender of the person I'm marryin' everything you wished I'd have in a spouse and a marriage will be the same."

"Except for the biggest thing, Nicky." She struggled not to cry in front of him. "It won't be blessed by God."

Nick quickly corrected her, "Actually it's not gonna be at City Hall or some hokey Vegas chapel. We're gettin' married in Greg's parents' church, by a pastor who has known Greg since he was ten."

"I'd like to believe that makes it better, really I would, but I just..." The lawyer in her resorted to logical reasoning while trying to appeal to her science-minded son, "Whether you believe in creation theory or evolution, Nicky, you can't refute that a man and a woman were designed to fit together for a common purpose. Since the dawn of time, the natural thing for a man to do was to find a woman to mate with and propagate the species."

"I agree that things probably started out that way, but evolution is defined as gradual changes to the gene pool over many generations, so bein' born homosexual isn't unnatural, it's a natural blip in the gene pool."

Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, Jillian sighed, "Did your DNA-genius boyfriend tell you that?"

"Yeah, he did." Nick's voice cracked, "One night about six years ago when I was cryin' in his arms feelin' lower than dirt about who I was, and wonderin' if my family would think I was better off dead than gay."

"Of course I wouldn't rather you be dead." Tears in her eyes, the emotionally torn mother said, "That glimpse I had of you slowly dyin' in that coffin was the worst moment of my life, and maybe that's why this is harder for me, because that's how I picture you when I think you could be condemned to hell. I can't handle the thought of you bein' tortured like that for eternity."

Pulling into the driveway of his brother's house, Nick turned off the car and took a deep breath. "The suffocation I felt in that coffin was nothin' compared to livin' the last twenty years with a lie." Taking her hand, he somberly said, "I didn't come out to make you or anyone else miserable, I did it because I didn't want to lose my mind. I'm sorry for any pain that it's causin' you or will cause you when the rest of the family finds out, but after twenty years of agony and another near-death experience, I couldn't take it anymore." Wiping her tears, he whispered, "I don't need you to accept how I'm livin', I just need you to not hate me or ignore me."

"I'd be just as worried about if I stopped talkin' to you, so what would be the point?" Pressing her hand to his cheek, she whispered, "I will always love you, and I really do hope I'm wrong about the way God wants things to be, but until he sends me a sign, I won't be able to give my blessing."

Grateful for her love, he hugged her tight. "Thank you. I'm lucky I have you as my mom."

* * *

While pacing the living room waiting for his mother to pull into the Stokes driveway, Greg passed the minutes counting the times his meddlesome mother had interfered with in his life and happiness. "She's lucky there are four children in the backyard," he grumbled, "I can't strangle her with children present." But he fully intended to verbally thrash her.

The sound of a car door shutting, had him running to the front door peep hole. "I can't wait to see the look on your face, mother." He wrapped his hand around the door knob and waited for the bell. When the chimes began to ring, he whipped open the door and yelled, "Surprise!"

After shrieking from bring startled, she gasped at the sight of her irate son. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" he calmly asked before repeating the same question in a scream, "What am **I** doing here?! What are** you** doing here?!"

"I can explain!"

"You don't have to!" he barked back. "Jillian already told me about your stealthy visit and how you accidentally dropped your tell-all scrapbook, as if I believe for a second it was an accident."

"It really was," she groveled. "I came here to out Nick, but I changed my mind."

"Care to explain to me why you thought for a second that it was your job to out Nick to his family?"

"Because I knew he never would!"

"Guess why I'm here, mother?" He folded his arms and leaned against the door way to wait for her incorrect answer.

"Um…" the anxious mother replied. "To denounce me as your mother and disinvite me to your future wedding?"

"No, but thanks for the suggestions."

Connie cursed herself for not answering 'I don't know'.

"I'm here because yesterday Nick decided he wanted to come out to his family. We flew here last night without knowing that you had already spilled the beans."

"Are you kidding me?!" Connie refused to believe it. "Do you expect me to believe that Nick wrestled with a secret for **twenty years** and decided he needed to tell it on the same day I flew here to out him?"

"Dad told us you were in San Francisco, which by the way…what a great role model you are for honesty in marriage."

"He'll forgive me, because he knows everything I do for you is out of love and in your best interest."

"Love?" Greg rolled his eyes. "Was it love that made you take away my brand new bike? Or were you afraid if I learned to ride like the rest of the kids on the block, I would have friends and not have to hang out with you?"

"What?!"

"You heard me." Taking a step out of the house he confronted her, "I lost track trying to count the number of times you did something 'in my best interest' when really you did it to make sure I ended up alone and needing my mommy."

Miffed by the statement, she bristled, "That's absurd, Gregory, not mention a little too Freudian."

"What would Freud say about you telling girls at school that I would probably never get married, because I would always love you best?"

"That was a joke!" Connie couldn't believe he was throwing that in her face thirteen years after the fact. "It was a joke I made in passing during choir practice one afternoon."

"In front of the girl you knew I was going to ask to the prom! And you neglected to mention that I was **six** when I said I wanted to grow up and marry you!" He reminded his jokester of a mother, "I sat home on prom night after she turned me down citing that I would probably be happier taking you."

"See, I was doing you a favor, Gregory. Only a colossal bitch would say something that mean." With conviction she said, "Mother knows best, and that's why I flew here, because I knew the best thing for you and Nick was for him to come out to this family."

"Really? Or did you come here hoping it would destroy my relationship with Nick for good?" Staring into her eyes, he saw the answer. "That's exactly why you came here, isn't it?"

"I came here to put an end to the drama of the last six years." Returning her son's glare, she said, "Whether the end result was Nick asking you to marry him or Nick telling you to go to hell, I honestly didn't care. I just wanted to end the cycle of suffering and see you get on with your life."

"The life **you** want for me," he snapped, "the life **you** think I should have, the life **you **need. Do you see the pattern yet, mother?"

Connie chided her disrespectful son, "Did Nick yell at his mother when she told him she wished he had a different life?"

"Nick's mom wants him to have another life, but only because she fears for** his** salvation. You want me to have another life, because it's too hard for **you** to control the one I have with Nick! Do you even understand the difference between a mother wanting the best for her child and a mother wanting what's best for herself?" Figuring she didn't, he gave her a few examples, "Not letting me play sports, because you didn't want to see me get hurt was the best for you, but it sucked for me, because I wanted to be one of the normal kids. Not letting me go on Boy Scout overnights without you was best for you, because then you wouldn't have to worry about me, but it sucked for me, because I wanted to be one of the boys. You taking a job at my school was best for you, because then you could be a part of my life all day, but it sucked for me, because I wanted to be one of the guys. It has **always** been about what's best for **you**, and unless you're finally ready to admit it, I'm done talking to you!"

"Well, until you're ready to admit all the wonderful things I've done to make your life as good as it is, I'm done talking to you!" She stormed back to her rental car shouting, "Ingrate!"

"Smotherer!"

"You're a spoiled brat, Gregory Hojem Sanders!" she yelled back before opening her car door.

"And you're a manipulative liar, Constance Olaf Sanders!"

"I'm going back to California!" she threatened, hoping he'd beg her to stay and work things out.

"Good!" He waved. "Try not to accidentally show pictures of my ass to flight attendants on the way home!"

"I don't want photos of my ungrateful son anyway!" On the verge of bawling, she left the scrapbook in the driveway, rushed into her rental car, and drove away slowly to see if her boy would race out to claim the book and wave her back.

From the front steps Greg could tell his mother was driving slowly to see if he would rescue her scrapbook, so he waited until she was around the corner before running to the driveway to grab it. "Drama queen," he muttered as he tucked it under his arm and carried it into the house.

* * *

When Nick stepped out of the entry way and into the living room of his brother's house, his jaw dropped. "Madi said the dog's made a mess, but I didn't think that meant the sofa bein' ripped to shreds."

"Me either." Jillian's gaze moved to the dining room. "Two dogs broke every dish in the China cabinet?"

The CSI in Nick came bubbling to the surface. "I'm thinkin' the dogs started the mess, but Billy and Maci finished it."

"With the children home? And then Billy just up and went to play golf this morning with his house and life in shambles?" She was ashamed to be his mother. "Was he just gonna leave it like this until Maci came back to clean it all up?"

"Knowin' Billy, yeah." Nick picked up a shredded cushion to stare at the rips. "He always found a way to make me do the laundry on his week, either payin' me off or threatenin' me with something. Last time I golfed with him, he told the guys at the club that after five kids he was proud to say he's never changed a single diaper."

Bending down to pick up a broken plate, Jillian shared, "Your daddy never a changed a diaper in his life either, so I suppose that's where he got the idea it was a good thing."

"A dog definitely didn't rip up this cushion." Nick showed his mother the slices. "I think it was shredded with a knife."

"A knife?" the idea sent a shiver through her. "Are you sure, Nicky?"

"A knife or somethin' with a sharp edge." His eye was drawn to a large chunk of glass on the floor. "Mama…"

"Yeah?"

When she turned around, Nick showed her the broken piece of a decanter. "There are blood drops on this and spatter on a pillow."

"The girls said the dogs were rippin' apart a roast last night."

"That would look different and the drops wouldn't be fresh," the CSI nervously replied before following a trail of drops down the hall and into the master bedroom. "Billy?! Maci?!" His heart racing, he hurried into the master bathroom. "Mom!" he shouted toward the hall before rushing to his sister-in-law's side. "Maci!" She was crumpled on the floor with blood on her hand and arm. "Maci!" He grabbed a towel and wet it.

"Billy," she groaned, the pain being too bad to move or open her eyes. "Somethin's wrong."

"It's Nicky." He wiped at the blood to find the source and was relieved to see it was her fingers that were sliced and not her wrist. "Maci!" He tapped her cheeks. "Honey, tell me what happened."

"Hurts."

"Your fingers are cut." When he saw an almost imperceptible shake of her head, he started searching for broken bones. "Did Billy hurt you?"

"N…no," she whispered before crying out in pain when Nick moved her.

"I moved your leg, is it your leg?"

"Oh my God!" Jillian shrieked when she saw her daughter-in-law bloody and curled up in fetal position on the bathroom floor. "The baby."

"Baby." Maci nodded and clutched her stomach. "Somethin's wrong…on this side."

"Stay there! I'll call 911." Jillian rushed for a phone. "Call your brother!"

* * *

"Billy," Missy whispered in her future-lover's ear, "I've got somethin' very special to show ya. Meet me in the supply room in thirty minutes if you want to see it."

"That'd be great." After she hurried off, Billy told the guys, "My brother's in town and I asked her to think about what it would take to convince her to go out with him and wake up with him the next morning. Nicky works his ass off and risks his life doin' that shit job of his, so I want him to be spoiled tonight."

"I wish I was your brother," Stan blurted as he tossed seventy dollars on the table. "Nick is one lucky guy."

Slapping a c-note on the pile of cash, Billy nodded, "Yeah, the ungrateful runt really doesn't deserve me for a big brother."

* * *

"EMTs are here, honey." Nick continued holding a wet cloth to Maci's head and squeezing her hand. "Everything's gonna be okay." When he heard his mother directing the paramedics, he told his sister-in-law, "There's not a lot of room in here, so I'm gonna be right outside the bathroom door with my mom if you need me, okay?" When he saw her nod, he released her hand and got out of the way.

"Did Billy call back?" Jillian asked as she shook in her son's arms.

"No, but he always turns off his phone when he's playin'." Clutching his mother tight, he said, "I don't want to call the club, panic him, and have him crash his car tryin' to get to the hospital, so how about you ride with Maci in the ambulance and I'll drive over to the club to find him. It's only a few minutes from the hospital, so we won't be too far behind you."

When Jillian saw a police officer scanning the bedroom, she whispered to her son, "How bad would this look to you if you arrived here on a call?"

"Very."

"That's what I was afraid of." Jillian's thoughts turned to her husband hearing about the drama.

Releasing his mother, Nick walked over to the young cop and pulled out his LVPD ID card from his wallet. "Officer, I'm home owner's brother, Nick Stokes. I'm with the Las Vegas crime lab, and I was Dallas PD before that, workin' under Captain Doyle, though he wasn't a Captain back then. I know how this all must look to you, but there are some extenuatin' circumstances you need to know. Maybe we could talk about them in my brother's office while the EMTs work in here."

After scanning the ID the officer nodded. "Sure."

* * *

"No, I couldn't possibly." Greg made his teddy bear's head move side to side. "Mr. Peabody doesn't have room for one more tea sandwich or cookie."

Kimberly intently watched her brother's partner entertain her nieces. "You're so good with kids," she told him.

"Since I'm an overgrown one it's easy to relate to them."

"Think you'll have kids someday?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "because I'm pretty sure my mother is probably plotting it with doctors behind my back. She probably has some Norwegian surrogate waiting in the wings and then one day I'll be kidnapped, and it will all happen while I'm asleep. Nine months later she'll hand me a baby and say 'it was in your best interest, Gregory'."

Seeing an in, Kimberly cryptically said, "Well if you ever want to have one, I'd be happy to lend a womb and find a doctor to make it happen." When Greg laughed, she said, "I'm not kiddin', I'd be thrilled to help."

Since he had never heard a woman say she'd want to have his baby, he didn't know how to reply. "Uh…" Luckily Kimberly's cell phone rang and bought him more time.

"It's my mother." She answered with a question, "Is everything goin' okay with Nicky?" But when she heard her mother frantically say she was on her way to the hospital with Maci while Nick was trying to track down Billy, her heart skipped a beat.

* * *

His heart pounding in his chest, Billy opened the supply room door and stepped inside. "Hello?" He flicked on the light. "Whoa."

"Howdy," the bikini-clad babe replied in a lusty rasp. "I wanted to show you my suit and see if it's good enough for Kauai?"

Letting the door shut behind him, Billy cleared his throat and casually said, "The suit's okay, but the body wearin' it is spectacular."

"What about the view from behind?" She turned and showed off her assets. "Do they allow thongs on the beaches in Kauai?"

Too mesmerized by the delicious curves in front of him, he didn't answer.

"What about topless?" With her back still turned, Missy tossed her top aside. "Do they allow women to be bathe topless there?"

"I…um." Just as he was about to say he better go, the girl turned around caressing her double Ds. "Because I hate strap marks, don't you?"

"Yeah." Overloaded with adrenaline from his tournament win and the taboo situation, he stepped forward. "I came in here to ask you if you'd like to go out with my brother tonight? He's in town…um…visiting."

"Is he has gorgeous as you, Billy?"

"No," the conceited older brother laughed as he took another step, "but some women find him attractive."

Running her hands over the jock's muscular arms, Missy seductively whispered, "Is he as strong as you?"

"Not even close."

"Mmm." She gave both biceps a squeeze as she licked her glistening lips. "I've been wantin' to feel your guns since the first day I saw you."

When the girl's thigh brushed up against him, he closed his eyes and fought the urge to put his hands on her. "I should go."

"You really should." While running her palm over the bulge in the helpless man's crotch, she nibbled on his ear lobe, "You've been such a good tipper all these months, Billy, the least I can do before you go is take care of this problem that's growin' bigger by the second."

"I really can't," he insisted while stepping back. "I…" Watching her step out of her thong, his willpower disintegrated. After silently blaming his wife for denying him the previous night, he stepped forward and pressed the temptress to the wall like he used to with post-game groupies on Saturday night. "I'm married. I can't have sex with you."

Taking the hint, the vixen dropped to her knees, hoping that a taste today would lead to bigger things tomorrow, and a rent-free apartment in the future. "Missy knows just what you need, baby." She teased him with her mouth and words. "I'm gonna give you what all your golf buddies fantasize about every time the see me kneel down to pick somethin' up."

* * *

"Stan!" Nick waved to his brother's co-worker who he was forced to play golf with the last time he was town. "I need to find my brother."

"Did you run here to meet Missy?" Stan joked when he saw the guy was breathless.

"Missy?"

"You have a very generous brother, Nick." Lowering his voice, Stan patted the young man on the back and said, "He's in the supply closet with Missy negotiating the cost of her services for the night. Damn, I wish I was you." He pointed in the direction of the closet door. "Maybe she'll give you a sneak peek."

Rolling his eyes, Nick marched toward the closet to tell his brother he was out of the closet and tell him he could stop buying him floozies for the rest of his life.

* * *

**ANs: **

There's still a chance Billy said thanks, but no thanks and told Missy to get dressed! Yeah, I don't think so either.

Thanks for the comments on the last chapter!

I hope everyone is having a good weekend,

Maggs


	21. Chapter 21

**Bleeding Love – Part 21**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

Opening the door to the supply closet, Nick grumbled, "Billy, I said I didn't want a…"

"Shit, Nicky. Ever think of knockin'? " Billy turned around to finish zipping his pants and shield Missy as she dressed. "Don't worry," he assured the tense young lady, "That's my brother, he'll be cool about this. Ain't that right, bro?"

Although his first instinct was to beat his brother senseless and drag him out of the supply room by his balls, Nick retreated into work mode, masked his urge to kill, and remained in control. "Let's go."

"Is it kickoff time already?" When he saw there was an hour until the game, Billy turned around and said, "What's the rush? Let me buy you a drink." Opening his wallet, he handed a hundred dollar bill to Missy. "Bring us a couple of beers, sweetheart." He winked, "Keep the change."

"Thanks, baby." As she sauntered past the younger brother, she smiled and tucked the c-note in her pocket. "You're not so bad yourself."

Thinking of his mother's already stressful day, Nick fought off the urge to rip the smug expression off his brother's face. "How long have been seein' her and cheatin' on Maci?"

"Seein' her? Are you kiddin' me?" The busted man decided to downplay the significance. "Let's not make somethin' out of nothin'. I got a meaningless blow job from a tramp, big fuckin' deal."

"That's not what you said when Clinton got caught doin' the same thing behind his wife's back."

"Of course not, because that happened on the taxpayer's dime while he was supposed to be workin' for the people. I'm on my own time and that was my own money…and as long as you keep your trap shut, my wife will be none the wiser."

Suppressing his desire to strangle his brother, Nick held the door open. "We need to go."

"Why are you in such a hurry anyway?" Tucking in his shirt, the Billy laughed, "Is your dorky friend waitin' on you to play chess?"

As much as he wanted to pound the prick into the ground, he wasn't about to cause a scene at the club where his father had golfed for decades. "C'mon, Mama's waitin' on us."

"Ooh!" Walking out of the closet, the hungry man patted his belly. "I hope she's busy makin' somethin' good to eat, 'cause I've been drinkin' and eatin' peanuts for two hours."

"Yeah, Mama's been busy alright." When Nick saw the waitress wave to his brother and lick her lips, his stomach turned.

"I gotta go, guys!" Billy waved to his co-workers. "I'll see you at church tomorrow, Bob."

Nick shook his head and pushed his brother out the door.

"Hold up! I have to grab my clubs."

While fantasizing about beating his brother with a nine iron, Nick tapped his foot to the rhythm of his blood boiling.

"Okay, I'll see you back at the ranch." With his golf bag over his shoulder, Billy started walking in the direction of his Range Rover.

On top of everything else, Nick couldn't believe the self-absorbed ass intended to drive while clearly over the legal limit. "What?"

"See, if you woulda let Missy hoover you, that wax in your ears woulda been sucked out through your pecker."

"That good, huh?" Instead of committing murder, Nick decided to encourage his brother's inner-asshole, so by the time he got to the hospital and found out what happened, he'd want to kill himself.

"Hell, I'm surprised my eyes are still in their sockets."

Nick popped the trunk on the rental. "You're ridin' with me because you said you've been drinkin' for hours."

"Yes, officer," Billy laughed as he stowed his clubs. "I hope you don't bust me for slippin' Missy that c-note." When he was settled in the passenger seat, he said, "For the record, she was doin' it for free."

"I'm sure she thought it was a privilege to drop to her knees for a guy like you."

"No doubt." Billy checked his hair in the mirror. "Since she didn't spill a drop, I decided to give her a little somethin'."

"You're a real sweetheart."

"Yeah, that's why I was always broke at A&M, I gave a t-shirt to every chick who let me in their backdoor or chugged, and there was never a shortage of eager volunteers." Relaxing in the seat, the sated man released a blissful sigh. "If you don't count bachelor parties, that was the first time I've done somethin' like that since I got married, but Maci's been holdin' out on me. I needed the release after workin' my ass off all week."

"How'd you get your wife pregnant if she's not puttin' out?" Nick goaded, while backing out of his parking space.

"I'm not talkin' about reproductive sex, I'm talkin' about the good stuff."

"According to the Bible, reproductive sex is the good stuff."

"You don't really believe all that shit, do you?" Billy slapped on his sunglasses and smiled, "Hell, if you believe that, I have an ark to sell ya, and you better buy it, 'cause I hear a flood's comin'. There's just one small catch, you have to take two of every animal with ya. Yeah, I know it seems impossible to fit all those animals on one ark and not have them kill each other, but forget about logic and just believe."

"Why do you go to church if you don't believe what they're preachin'?"

"Bein' seen there is good for my career and it keeps me in my mama's good graces, but most of all, I go because The Judge would judge me if I didn't." He groaned, "Look at the shit he gives Kimmie for bein' Methodist, and she actually practices what she hears preached on Sundays. She busts her ass doin' all that volunteer work at shelters," he grumbled, "like a sack of canned goods and a new doll is really gonna make a difference to a needy kid in the long run. Those homeless people are a friggin' mess."

"A mess compared to your perfect family situation?" Nick replied while bile rose in his throat.

"Damn straight, because I know how to provide for my family. You won't be seein' a foreclosure sign on my house, and my daughters have college funds, so they won't end up posin' naked or blowin' guys in supply closets for extra cash." Mocking his sister's politics, he said, "But I'm sure Kimmie thinks her patron saint Obama will fix everything the first ten days he's in office. How will she fill her time once all the losers in this country are livin' off hefty government handouts? The only jobs she'll have left are seein' her boys off to school, pampering her pocket puppy, and spendin' her husband's cash. Russell is the only guy I know makin' a fortune while the economy is in the pits. It makes me hate him even more."

"The only reason you hate Russell is because he's bigger, smarter, and richer than you."

"I could take that bastard down with one hand tied behind my back." Noticing they weren't going the right way, he shoved his brother. "You were supposed to turn right at the light."

"I need to make a stop first."

"Gonna buy a Playboy and sneak it into the house for old time's sake?" Billy sighed, "You coulda had the real deal back at the club, bro. For another fifty, she woulda done you too. You shoulda went for it."

"I didn't need it."

"Let me guess." Billy loved tweaking his public servant brother, "Workin' seventy hours a week bein' the voice of the dead wasn't enough to prop your holier-than-thou image, so you took a vow of celibacy."

Without missing a beat, Nick casually replied, "No, because Greg took care of me before we left the hotel this morning." Turning into the hospital lot, he pulled into the first parking space he saw and turned off the car.

"Don't even joke about that queer shit." The idea sent a shiver up the homophobe's spine. "Especially when it involves your geek pal Greg, 'cause that guy's clothes and shoes gave me a serious faggot vibe. Why the hell are we at the hospital?"

With an icy stare, Nick replied, "After Greg and I spent the day playin' daddy to your kids, so you could golf and get your rocks off, Mama and I went to your house to get some fresh clothes for the girls and found your wife bleedin' and delirious on the bathroom floor. I left you three messages, but I guess your hands were too busy shovin' Missy's face into your crotch for you to answer your cell."

"You're fuckin' sick for lyin' about somethin' like that just to make me feel guilty."

Grabbing his brother by the collar, Nick snarled through gritted teeth, "I wasn't lyin' about Greg, and I'm not lyin' about Maci, and I'm not lyin' when I say you better get your ass in that hospital and start actin' like you actually care about the mother of your children or I **swear **I will tell the family what you did and then hand them a map to where I strung you up by your balls, not that they'd go lookin' for you cheatin' ass." He shoved the stunned man's back into the window. "And God help you if I hear the word faggot come out of your mouth again. I could've worn a pink skirt and screwed every cowboy in Texas last night and I'd **still** be the only real man in this car, you selfish piece of shit." Releasing his grip, he barked, "Get out!"

Overwhelmed by the devastating revelations and his little brother's uncharacteristic dominance, Billy remained frozen until the passenger door opened and he was yanked to his feet.

"Still feelin' good about that hummer, Mr. Goodbar?" Nick pushed him in the direction of the emergency entrance. "Yeah, I didn't think so. You make me sick."

* * *

"I really wanna be at the hospital for my Mom's sake," Kimberly wrung her hands as she paced the kitchen. "But I'm sure you wanna be there for Nicky, right? And it wouldn't be fair to leave you here to watch four little kids, Greg." She didn't want to call her hyper-competitive sisters who would only fuel the family drama to make themselves look better. "I called Maci's sister, but she already has her hands full watching her own kids and baby Maggi."

"I have an idea." Greg grabbed his cell phone. "My mother will be thrilled to play grandma to four little girls." Jillian had told him how much his mother had doted on the children the previous day. "You go to the hospital, because I think it's important for you to be there supporting Nick when his brother finds out the truth."

* * *

"They rushed Maci into surgery," Jillian tearfully told her boys when she met them in the ER waiting area. "I'm so sorry, honey." She grabbed oldest son's hand. "It was an ectopic pregnancy."

"Uh," Billy queried in a shaky voice, "I…I don't know what…um." It was all so surreal, like an erotic dream that suddenly turned into a frighteningly realistic nightmare.

Squeezing her son's trembling hand, she explained, "It means the fertilized egg implanted in a fallopian tube instead of passing through to the uterus and implanting there like it should."

Even though his brother was clearly shaken up, all of Nick's sympathy went to Maci. "But she's gonna be okay, right?" He couldn't imagine the girls growing up without their mother. "Women don't die from that."

"Your sister Kendra had one, which they caught real early and handled with medicine, but her tube wasn't ruptured." Jillian cried, "Maci's blood pressure was dropping as we got here, which could mean she was already bleedin' internally and could go into shock."

* * *

When Connie Sanders heard her cell phone ring, she gasped and muted her hotel TV. "HA!" Just as she suspected, the caller ID displayed her son's name. "I knew the little ingrate would call groveling." She let it ring four times before answering smugly, "Is there something important you want to say to me, Gregory?"

_Yes. When Nick went to his brother's house to get his nieces some extra clothes, he found his sister-in-law Maci bleeding on the bathroom floor. She's having emergency surgery right now and I'm at his parents' house babysitting four little girls. Feel like coming over here and giving me a hand? _

"They left **you** to babysit four small children? The only thing you know about kids is how to act like them."

_True, but so far they've been having a blast. We just finished building a fort out of the curtains and now I'm gonna teach them how to push a chair to the counter so they can climb up and get into the upper cabinets._

"Very funny." Like a fireman answering a call, she jumped into her shoes, grabbed her gear, and raced to the door. "I'll be right there!"

* * *

"Kimmie's here," Nick told his mother as he pointed to the ER entrance and stood. "Over here, sis!"

"Any updates?" she breathlessly asked while giving her mother a hug.

"She's still in surgery," Jillian answered as she released Billy's hand to return her daughter's embrace. "We were told to sit here and wait."

"Russell's father is close with the Chief of Staff, he's callin' him to make sure Maci gets the very best."

Nick poked his stoic brother. "The appropriate response would be 'thanks'."

"Thanks," Billy stated after swallowing his pride.

When Kimberly's phone rang, she jumped to answer it. "It's Russell. Hey, honey, did you get a hold of your dad?" She walked away to speak in a quiet corner.

Seeing a cell phone reminded Jillian of the question she forgot to ask. "Billy why didn't you answer your phone when your brother kept callin' you? And why didn't you return his messages? Maci was terrified and askin' for you the whole way here. I lied and told her you would meet us at the hospital, so she would calm down. And what took you so long gettin' him here, Nicky? The club is only a few minutes away."

Guilt tearing him up like a pack of hungry wolves, Billy contemplated confessing.

"Sorry, I meant to tell you when we got here." Rather than break his mother's heart, Nick made up an excuse, "He usually turns his phone to vibrate when he's golfing, but today he turned it off by accident. I had to jog out to the fifteenth hole to get him, that's why it took a little longer than expected." After lying, he glared at his guilt-ridden brother. "Billy felt terrible when he heard the news and realized he wasn't there when his wife needed him the most."

Billy was about to blurt the ugly truth when his sister returned.

"Follow me," Kimberly waved for her family members to join her at the information desk. "Hello, I'm Kimberly Ryerson. My father-in-law just got off the phone with your Chief of Staff, Dr. Wenzler. Dr. Wenzler was kind enough to volunteer his office for us to use while we wait for our family member to come out of surgery."

"Yes, I just received a call telling me that." The nurse pushed out a polite smile. "If you give me a second, I'll have someone take you there."

* * *

"Your mommy's here!" Madi yelled from the picture window where she was perched waiting for Mrs. Sanders. "She reminds me of a Mary Poppins, but older and with blonde hair."

"She sings like Mary Poppins," Greg informed the girl as he picked up little Molli. "Do all of you remember what I told you to do when my mom walks in? When they nodded, he answered the door. "Thanks for coming, Mom."

"Let's run with scissors again!" Melani yelled, before running around the room with the pair Greg had taped up for safety.

"After we swing from the chandelier one more time!" Madi ran to climb on the dining room table and tried to grab the ornate light fixture hanging high above the table.

Mandi missed her cue, but remembered when Greg pointed to toilet paper roll on the couch. "Then we'll TP the neighbor's house!"

"Cute." Connie rolled her eyes as she shut the door behind her.

"Wait for it." Greg whispered in Molli's ear.

"Party time!" the two year old giggled and clapped.

"We love Uncle Greg!" the three oldest girls cheered.

"Bravo!" the proud babysitter and drama coach grinned at his mother. "They learned that in fifteen minutes. Imagine how corrupted they'll be after a few hours." He handed over little Molli. "She's supposed to go potty every hour, because she just got trained last month. Uncle Greg knows how to play games and make dinner, but he doesn't know how to do the girl potty thing. That's why Connie Poppins had to come here."

* * *

"Right in here." Christina, a hospital public relations assistant, showed the Stokes family members into her boss's waiting area. "Dr. Wenzler doesn't have hours on Saturday afternoon or Sunday, so he said you can use his office waiting area for as long as you need. He also wanted me to tell you to help yourself to coffee and the mini fridge, and if you need anything, don't hesitate to call my cell." She handed each family member a card. "The OR desk knows to update you here. Take care."

"Thanks." Nick held the door for the young lady and closed it when she was in the hall. "This will be much more relaxing. Kimberly, make sure you tell your father-in-law thanks from all of us."

"Already did." She went to the coffeemaker to brew a fresh pot. "I don't know about y'all, but I need some caffeine."

"I'll take a cup," Jillian sighed as she took a seat next to Billy, who was still too overwhelmed to talk about what was happening.

"Me too." Nick pulled a chair in front of his brother and sat. "Billy, how about you tell us what really happened at the house."

"Nicky, not now," the worried mother shook her head. "He has plenty to think about already."

"The cops are comin' here to take a statement from Maci and they're gonna ask the doctor if there were any signs of physical abuse."

"Abuse?" Kimberly whirled around to glare at her big brother. "You abused Maci?!"

"No!" Billy snapped, finally finding his voice. "I've never hurt my wife or any other woman for that matter. What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Your house looked like a tornado had barreled through it," Nick answered. "When the cops and EMTs got there and saw that, and then saw your wife bleeding on the floor, it looked pretty damn suspicious. Even if there wasn't any physical abuse, which Maci said there wasn't, there was evidence of domestic violence in a house where small children live and that's not somethin' I could get the cops to look the other way on, no matter how hard I tried. The best they would give me as a courtesy, was to keep things hush until Maci's statement could be taken."

"Domestic violence?" Again, nothing made sense to Billy. "The dogs ripped up a pillow and got some meat stains on the couch and carpet, the girls made a mess in the kitchen with flour and then I added to it tryin' to make dinner, and while all that was goin' on, Molli tossed chocolate cake around the dining room. That's a mess, not domestic violence." When he saw his mother turn her gaze to floor, he said, "I'm tellin' the truth. The kids were there, they'll tell you the same damn thing."

Nick nodded at his confused brother. "They did tell us all that, but the problem is, there was a lot more damage inside the house by the time I got there. All the china and crystal in the dining room was smashed to pieces and the couch cushions had been shredded with a sharp piece of glass."

"Wh…why would she?" Billy grasped for an answer. "We had an argument, but it wasn't serious."

"It was serious to her," Nick informed him. "Maci was so angry, she cut herself in the process of tearing things apart. She dripped blood from the living room to the master bedroom where I found her on the floor. She went there to bandage her hand, but ended up fainting onto the tile floor and hitting her elbow and head. If I had walked into the house and seen all that and found a wife on the floor in Maci's bleeding and bruised condition, I'd be thinkin' domestic violence too. The cops are just doin' their job and tryin' to protect someone who might be too afraid to defend herself."

Forcing herself to think like a lawyer, Jillian said, "But that's not what happened, right, Billy? Maci was at her sister's until ten and you were at the club golfin' from nine until Nicky found you, right? People saw you there and could tell the police that if questioned, right?" When he nodded, she started breathing again.

Kimberly shook her head at her brother's stupidity. "Didn't I tell you she'd end up in the psych ward one day if you kept pushin' her? She was a full-time maid, full-time nanny, and your lover when you snapped your fingers, all while havin' to look like a freakin' Barbie doll! I'm not the least bit surprised her uterus blew out while tearin' the house apart."

"That's enough," Jillian warned her daughter. "Don't you think he's bein' punished enough losin' a baby and maybe his wife?"

Just as Kimberly was about to shout 'no, not hardly enough' she saw Billy was crying. In her entire life, she had never seen him shed a tear. Marching to the door, she muttered, "I'm goin' to the hospital cafeteria to get us some cream."

* * *

"Who wants dessert?!" Greg shouted from the kitchen into the family room. "Dinner won't be ready for an hour, so we have to eat dessert first." When he saw his mother's jaw drop, he laughed. "Ice cream sundaes for everyone!"

"Yay!" The girls dropped their crayons and came running.

"We never get to eat dessert **before **dinner!" Madi threw her arms around Greg's waist, and thinking of all the time he had devoted to making her happy today, she lovingly said, "I want you to be my daddy all the time."

"Yeah," Mandi nodded, "our real daddy isn't fun like you."

Even though she was certain she'd hate Billy Stokes if she ever met him, Connie felt obligated to correct the children's perception. "I'm sure your daddy works very hard to make money to pay for your house and your toys. Greg seems more fun because he's here on vacation with your Uncle Nick."

"Yeah." Greg patted the six year old on the head. "Just ask your Uncle Nicky, I can get pretty crabby if I'm tired from working a really long time. Sometimes I come home and don't even talk to your Uncle Nick before we climb into bed and go to sleep."

"Greg!" Connie gave him the 'I don't want to have to explain why you sleep with Uncle Nicky' face.

"Do you sleep in the top bunk or the bottom?" Mandi, asked, "I hafta take turns, 'cause Melani likes the top too."

After giving his mother the 'thankfully they worked out an innocent explanation on their own face' Greg innocently lied, "Your uncle and I both like the bottom, so..."

"Gregory Hojem Sanders!" She couldn't believe he'd crack a sexual joke in front of children.

"Geez! Get your mind out of the gutter, Mom." He scowled at her. "We were talking about **bunk beds**. I was going to say we both like the bottom, so our beds are both on the floor like Bert and Ernie's, who are the bestest of friends just like Nick and I are the bestest of friends."

Connie smiled at the sweet explanation. "Good one."

While scooping ice cream, he continued the tall tale, "Your uncle wears really dorky striped pajamas to bed and snores."

"Greg drools all over his pillow." Connie grinned at her son. "I thought we were sticking as close to the truth as possible?"

* * *

"That's the truth, Officer," Billy told the cop who had come to the private waiting area to take his statement. "I finished playin' golf and then I went into the lounge for drinks with my co-workers."

Studying the nervous man's appearance, Officer Farris asked, "Is that your wife's lipstick on the bottom of your shirt?"

Nick turned to look at his brother's golf polo. His urge to kill his brother returned when he saw his mother's stunned expression.

"Yeah, it's my wife's lipstick," Billy anxiously replied.

"Really?" The officer stared into the liar's eyes. "Because I saw your wife as the EMTs were takin' her out and she didn't have any makeup on.

"It was from this morning."

"But you told me your wife was at her sister's this morning, so which is it, Mr. Stokes? Was your wife with you getting lipstick on your shirt or was she at her sister's this morning?"

Nick interrupted the questioning, "I'm pretty sure he means it's a stain from another day. I know he volunteered to give a statement, but it's obvious to me he's really not up to it, so can ya finish after his wife is in recovery?"

Because his captain had given him permission to go easy, the officer put away his notepad. "Tell you what, I'll go over to the club and verify you played in the tournament, Mr. Stokes, and then I'll come back here."

"Thank you." Nick walked the cop out of the room. "Believe me, I know how this all looks, but as soon as Maci is up to tellin' you what happened, everything will fall into place."

Once they were outside the waiting area, the cop said, "We both know that was fresh lipstick and you just didn't want your mother to find out your brother was get his wood polished. I honestly don't care who sucks off your brother, that's none of my business, I only need to know he wasn't at home knockin' his wife around this afternoon, that's why I'm goin' to the club to get the answers I need. How's that?"

"More than generous." Nick nodded to the cop, "If you ever get into a jam in Vegas, you know who to look up."

"Yeah, that's exactly why I'm doin' this, Stokes." The officer gave the ex-Dallas cop a good 'ol boy wink. "A bunch of us are goin' out there for my brother's bachelor party in April and I just might need a friend at LVPD. A few of my brother's buddies are roughnecks, who don't know when to say when."

* * *

"When did that lipstick really get on your shirt, Billy?" Jillian knew the bright pink shade wasn't anything Maci would wear.

"It's like Nicky said," he answered without making eye contact. "It's an old stain."

After smacking her son across the face, Jillian cried, "Don't you dare lie to me!"

Just like she used to when she was a little girl, Kimberly retreated to a corner so she wouldn't be in the line of fire when a sibling was getting in trouble.

When she heard Nick re-enter the room, the angry mother rushed to meet him. "Billy just told me the truth. I can't believe you covered for him when I asked him why he didn't answer his phone."

Kimberly and Billy knew their younger brother was bein' trapped, but just like they had done as children, they kept quiet for fear of making their own situations worse.

Surprised his brother had confessed, Nick said, "I wasn't coverin' for him, I was protectin' you from the added stress of findin' out your son was a cheat on top of everything else you've learned in the last twenty-four hours. I blasted the scumbag in the car and let him know I didn't approve of what I caught him doin'. It took all my willpower not to punch him when I found him zippin' up in the supply closet, but I didn't want to cause a scene at Dad's golf club."

"Thank you." Tears carving a fresh path down her cheeks, the troubled mother said, "At least one of my boy's knows how to tell the truth when confronted." Heading for the door, she patted Nick on the shoulder. "I need air and privacy, so I'm goin' for a walk. Call me if you get an update on Maci."

As soon as his mother was gone, Billy turned on his brother, "I can't believe you sold me out! You broke guy code, backstabbed a fellow Aggie, and betrayed your brother!"

Nick got in Billy's face. "You broke your wedding vows and betrayed your Aggie wife and you're callin' **me** a backstabbin' sell out?"

Finding her voice, Kimberly snapped, "Grow the fuck up, Billy! You're not a 21 year old beer guzzlin' jock who just got caught bangin' some other guy's chick, you're a 39 year old husband and father of five! If I had walked in on you at the club, I would have exposed you for the self-centered jerk you have** always** been!"

Building on what his sister said, Nick blasted, "I can't believe you lied to mom and used her babysitting services to help you commit adultery. That's sick."

"It's not like I woke up and planned on it! It just happened." Needing to displace his anger somewhere, Billy ignored his whiny sister and used his extra inches of height to loom over Nick. "You don't have the right to lecture me about marriage and family until you have a wife and kids, and I guess the odds of that happenin' are slim, aren't they, gay boy?" He shoved his little brother away. "And you won't ever have to worry about babysittin' my kids again, because I don't plan on lettin' them spend time with their queer uncle and his butt-munchin', pillow-bitin' faggot friend!"

Kimberly screamed in defense of her younger brother, "Shut your mouth, Billy! You're not half the man Nicky is!"

"It's okay, I know what he's doin'." Nick folded his arms across his chest and remained calm. "He's angry at himself and lookin' for a fight. I'm not gonna bite."

"You're not gonna bite huh?" Billy quickly retorted, "Is that what you tell guys when you're droppin' to your knees in restrooms?"

"Shut up, Billy!" Kimberly hit him with her purse. "Enough!"

Nick shrugged off the remark, "You'd like to believe my morals are worse than yours, wouldn't ya? Sorry, that's not gonna work either. I've been in a monogamous relationship with Greg for years and haven't done anything wrong."

"That's your very biased opinion." Billy snarked, "But like most folks and God, I think shovin' it up another guy's ass is pretty goddamn wrong."

Stepping close, Nick smiled, "Actually, you have it backwards, bro. I just bend over, Greg's the one doin' the shovin'."

The idea of his brother being on the receiving end made everything ten times worse. "I can't wait 'til The Judge hears you like takin' it from a geek boy."

With a maniacal edge in his voice, Nick whispered, "That makes two of us."

* * *

**ANs: **

I re-wrote the Nick and Billy parts a few times, and the version I settled on is how I imagine 2008 Nick would handle himself in this situation – a lot of underlying rage, common sense (he's not going to bust his brother in public), and respect for his mother and Kimberly (he's not going to cause a scene at the hospital and break stuff fighting his brother in the Chief of Staff's office) all of which expertly plays to his ultimate goal - proving he is the better man time and time again.

Nick has learned that the best way to beat a bully is to not doing what they want you to do (cry or throw the first punch) and not caring when they threaten you because that takes away their power over you. Kimberly is still a damaged little girl trying to win a losing battle and Billy still deflects his emotions by getting angry at someone else (referencing Nick's story told on the Pittsburgh flight about when he caught his brother crying and got pummeled).

Greg was comic relief in this chapter : )

I hope it was an interesting read!

Maggs


	22. Chapter 22

**Bleeding Love – Part 22**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

When Jillian returned and saw Kimberly sobbing into a wad of tissues and her sons soberly sitting in separate corners staring into space, she knew something was wrong. "I told you to call me if there was news."

"We haven't heard anything on Maci," Nick replied, allaying his mother's fears.

"Then why are you so upset, Kimberly?"

"As soon as you left, Billy started verbally gay-bashin' Nicky. I couldn't stand it, so I hit ignorant bully with my purse. After the third time, he said…" It was difficult to repeat the hate-filled words. "He said, 'Too bad you don't have your puppy purse today, because as hard as you're swingin' that ugly rat you call a dog would be dead."

While her daughter mourned for her hypothetically dead puppy, Jillian glared at her eldest son. "That's how you repay your brother and sister for helpin' save your wife's life and bein' here to support you?"

"What I said has nothin' to do with Nicky helpin' my wife," Billy coolly replied. "You and Dad have **always** said the gay lifestyle is an abomination, no exceptions, but a good Christian hates the sin, not the sinner. That's exactly what I was doin'. I don't hate my brother, but it makes me sick knowin' he chooses to get naked and bend over for Greg every night instead of livin' the way a man is supposed to live."

Kimberly rolled her eyes, "Does a real man ball bar whores in supply closets?"

"I didn't have sex with the girl." Billy didn't want his mother to think the worst.

"The Republican NeoCon is pullin' the Bill Clinton defense?" Kimberly snarked, "That's precious."

"I'm not defendin' my behavior." The skilled lawyer appealed to his mother's Biblical and ethical sensibilities. "Yes, I was weak and gave into temptation **today**, but Nicky's been sinning for decades, and while I've repented and begged God to forgive me, my queer brother is countin' the minutes until he can sin again."

After making similar arguments to Connie the previous day, Jillian felt she would be a hypocrite if she disagreed with Billy's stance on homosexuality.

"You're livin' in a glass house, Nicholas." Billy glared at his self-righteous little brother. "Unless you've seen the error of your ways and intend to give up gay behavior for the rest of your life, you have no business callin' me or anyone a sinner." Desperate to get back into his mother's good graces, he pleaded, "The good news is, it's never too late to start talkin' to God, Nicky."

Remembering how his brother mocked God and the Bible on the drive to the hospital, Nick shook his head at the real hypocrite in the room. "You'll be happy to know that I already talk to God before and after every shift, and depending on the case I'm workin', sometimes during."

"Fine." Billy sat up tall. "But you're still the bigger sinner until you repent."

"It's always a competition with you, Billy." Kimberly's pent-up childhood anger getting the best of her, she snapped, "If our little brother's worst sin is sleepin' with men, then I have bad news for you - you're** still** the biggest sinner, Billy. Unless Nicky got a girl in trouble and paid for an abortion like you did."

"What?" Jillian gaped at her boy. "Is that true?"

Shocked to hear his darkest secret flying out of his sister's mouth, Billy remained silent.

When she didn't get an answer from her lying son, Jillian turned to her honest son. "Is it?"

Feeling equally stunned, Nick held up his right hand. "I swear on my life I don't know anything about what Kimberly just said."

"I told you it wasn't true." Billy shrugged off the statement. "Kimmie's lyin' just like she **always** did to get me in bigger trouble or herself out of trouble."

"Not this time." Kimberly spoke with confidence, "When Mary Ellen was sleepin' over at the ranch for our annual Memorial Day weekend BBQ she got up and used the bathroom in the middle of the night and bumped into Billy."

"Shut up!" Billy yelled from the edge of his seat. "You don't know what you're talkin' about."

Nick had enough experience reading guilty consciences to know his brother's reaction meant the story was true.

"They ended up havin' sex on the bathroom floor." Kimberly stood and told the rest of the secret she had promised her friend she would take to the grave. "Six weeks later he paid for Mary Ellen to have an abortion."

"But it wasn't my baby!"

Nick jumped up when his brother did. "Let's go for a walk, Billy." He grabbed him by the elbow.

"Get off me!" On the defensive, Billy told his horrified mother, "It wasn't my baby. I only agreed to pay and drive her to the clinic because I didn't want Dad to find out I had sex with her at the ranch."

"He's lyin'," Kimberly stuck to her story. "Mary Ellen said…"

"Like Mary Ellen could remember any details when you two ganja queens had been tokin' all weekend."

Nick held his teary mother as his siblings continued their unsettling debate.

"She remembered plenty!" Kimberly got in her brother's face and shared the gory details, "After you realized you didn't have a condom, you grabbed my body lotion from the counter and turned her on her stomach. You told her not to worry, that she couldn't get pregnant if you came in through her back door. She panicked and told you she was on the pill because she was too embarrassed to tell you that she was scared to do it that way."

"How the hell was I supposed to know she was lyin" about the pill?!"

"So you admit you had sex without a condom and got her pregnant."

Billy shook his head. "No, because I think she was already pregnant when we had sex. She was flirtin' with me all night and I didn't walk in on her goin' to the bathroom, she walked in on me. She threw herself at me knowin' I was trashed and wouldn't say no to a freebie. She also knew I would pay for an abortion if she threatened to tell her folks and mine. I was trapped."

"Unless you were raped, you weren't trapped." Kimberly scowled at her brother. "You** chose** to have unprotected sex with her. That was your big mistake."

"Yeah, and you hate me for it, but Nicky chooses to have sex with guys every night and you think his immoral behavior is cute. Story of my life…I have to be perfect, but little Nicky can do anything and get away with it. When Nicky didn't make first-string until his junior year everyone felt sorry for him, but when I didn't start **one game** in four goddamn years of high school ball it was an embarrassment to the family." Taking his anger out on his brother, he shouted, "If I stood up and announced I was havin' sex with guys, I'd be thrown out of the family, but Nicky comes home and says he's queer and y'all toss the Bible out the window instead. I'm fuckin' sick of the double standard."

"There's no double standard," Kimberly assured her brother. "Daddy caught you havin' a house party and took your horse and car to pay for the damages, but you know what Daddy took away when he caught Nicky with his college boyfriend? His freedom. Daddy drove him to some fundie psych hospital disguised at a camp and paid to have him mentally tortured for weeks."

"Kimmie!" Nick shot her a look. "I said that was for your ears only."

"Dad seriously did that?" Billy knew his father could be a cold-hearted bastard, but never considered him capable of secretly imprisoning one of his children. "How…"

"Remember when Dad told us Nicky didn't come home for Spring Break because he got a last minute internship that he couldn't pass up? There was no damn internship. He lied to all of us and then told Nicky he better go along with the lie if he wanted to be a part of the family." Tears pouring down her cheeks, Kimberly yelled, "That man had no right to speak for me and alienate our brother from us all these years!"

Jillian buried her face in her hands. "I had no idea, Nicky, I swear." She had always suspected her husband had a few secrets, but this was an unfathomable betrayal to their marriage. "I think I would have preferred to hear your father cheated on me than hearin' this."

"It's okay, Mama." Nick held her tight. "Look how upset she is, Kimberly. This is **exactly **why I didn't want you to say anything."

"Sorry, but I'm tired of keepin' secrets. Our secrets have made us all crazy." Kimberly cried along with her mother. "We've spent our entire lives goin' to extremes to hide our flaws and cover our problems. The rivalry, the jealousy, the fear of not bein' perfect…it has to stop. Billy, you resent Nicky because he left Dallas, but now you know why he left and why Daddy only pressures you to follow in his footsteps and give him grandsons to carry on the family name. The two of you have a common enemy. Instead of fightin' each other, you should get together and tell Daddy you're both done pretendin' to be someone you're not. You never wanted to go to law school and you hate bein' a lawyer, Billy. Nicky and I gave up tryin' to please him and got on with our lives, maybe you should try doin' the same."

"Okay, sure, why not?" Overwhelmed by the day's drama, Billy released a stress-induced laugh, "What should I do first to piss off The Judge? Buy a pocket puppy or start screwin' guys?"

Kimberly quipped, "There's a cute guy workin' at the pet store, so maybe you can do both at the same time. I bet they have a nice supply closet there."

"I don't go around screwin' guys in suppy closets or bathhouses or anywhere else," Nick clarified for his mother's benefit. "I've been in a committed relationship for years and we're gettin' married in California when it's legal again."

Billy shook his head. "One guy, fifty guys, you're still doin' it **with a guy**, Nicky. That's the part I can't get behind." When he realized what he said. "No pun intended."

"Don't start bashin' him again!" Kimberly yelled, her ire returning.

"I'm not, I'm just tellin' the truth." Billy reminded his sister, "You're the one who said no more lies, so don't ask me to lie about how I feel. Maybe y'all can go from Nicky's straight to Nicky's queer in sixty seconds, but I'm a guy and I'm gonna need a lot more time. Some pretty bad images pop in my head when I think 'gay man', maybe it would be different if I knew one, but I don't' have any gay friends…"

"Yeah, you do," Nicky informed his clueless brother. "Your buddy Dan."

"Dan?" Billy took offense. "He was my teammate and roommate and now he's married and has three kids. What would make you say he was gay?"

Subconsciously ready to unload a little more baggage, Nick blurted, "My first clue was when he locked me in his room and made me have sex with him for hours that weekend I came to visit you before my 18th birthday. You wanted to go out with your girlfriend, but you knew Dad would kill you if anything happened to me, so you bought me a pizza and told me not to leave the apartment. Dan came home as soon as you left and said he offered to make my first time special, but it ended up bein' a nightmare."

"Bullshit," Billy snarled.

"I wish." Nick didn't blink when his brother loomed over him. "Now you know why I didn't want ride horses with you the next morning, and why I never visited you again. Dan wanted to take a walk down memory lane on your bachelor party weekend, but I said no thanks and gave him a black eye instead. He told you a different story, some bullshit about the bouncer punching him when he got too friendly with a stripper. I feel sorry for his wife, because she's probably just as clueless as you were."

Before anyone could react to the latest revelation, a woman in scrubs walked into the room. "Are you the Stokes family?"

"Yes." In an instant, the feuding family members forgot everything and huddled together to brace for the news.

"Is my wife okay?" Billy anxiously asked, genuinely praying for the first time in years.

"Yes, she is."

"Thank God," Jillian cried out before hugging her daughter. "Girls need their mother."

The doctor walked forward with an outstretched hand. "Mr. Stokes, I'm Dr. Tomlin, I operated on your wife. She's stable and resting in the Recovery area."

Billy excitedly shook the doctor's hand. "Thank you for saving her."

"It's a good thing you got her here when you did. Internal bleeding can become life threatening very quickly. An hour later and it would have been too late."

Placing his hand on Nick's shoulder, Billy quietly said, "Actually it was my brother who saved the day. He saw blood drops leadin' to the bathroom and found Maci curled up on the floor."

"I was just in the right place at the right time." When his brother embraced him and whispered he was sorry for the slurs he said earlier and for leavin' him alone with Dan, Nick choked up, "Water under the bridge. Let's focus on Maci right now."

"Will she still be able to have children?" Jillian queried, knowing how much her husband wanted a grandson.

The doctor waited for the distraught husband to pull himself together and then gently delivered the news, "Mr. Stokes, I'm afraid the ectopic pregnancy wasn't the only problem I discovered during surgery. Your wife also had a prolapsed uterus, which can happen to a woman who had five pregnancies and difficult deliveries. Even if the fertilized egg had been able to make it out of her fallopian tube, the pregnancy wouldn't have been viable. I had to remove her uterus along with the damaged fallopian tube, so I'm sorry, she won't be able to carry a baby in the future. However, since her ovaries are healthy and functioning, the two of you could conceive outside the womb and use IVF to have a gestational surrogate carry the baby for you." She nodded sympathetically, "I know that's not the news you wanted to hear, but considering the outcome could have been death due to catastrophic blood loss, it's far from the worst news I could have delivered, so please try to focus on the positive."

Jillian gave her son's hand a squeeze. "The most important thing is that your wife is alive and your girls still have their mother."

"Absolutely," Billy wiped his tears.

Do you have any other questions for me?" the doctor queried while checking her watch.

"Yeah, how long until my brother can see her?" Nick asked when everyone else was silent.

"Someone will be here shortly to bring your brother to recovery." Needing to prep for her next surgery, the doctor headed for the door. "I'll stop by and check on your wife after I get out of surgery."

"I'm sorry, Billy." Jillian embraced her son. "I know how much you and Maci wanted a little boy."

Feeling uncharacteristically sad for her brother, Kimberly said, "I've already offered to have Greg's baby, but if..."

"Excuse me?" Nick stared at his sister. "Greg's baby? What are you talkin' about?"

"I thought it was a great idea, because if we use my egg and Greg's sperm then the baby will be half Stokes and half Sanders."

"Sorry to disappoint ya, sis, but Greg doesn't wanna be a dad."

* * *

"Chicken Pot Pie will be ready in five minutes!" Greg clapped his hands. "Wash your hands, munchkins!" Grinning at his mother, he smoothed his hands over the pink 'Kiss the Cook' apron he had put on when he made dinner earlier. "I'm rockin' this mom thing, aren't I?"

"Yes, as long as your children don't pee or poop, you'll be an excellent parent." Patting him on the shoulder, Connie chuckled, "You do realize your puppy goes to the bathroom, right?"

"I scoop up bodily fluids on a nightly basis, so picking up after a puppy won't be a problem." He laughed, "It wasn't the poop I couldn't handle earlier, it was the squirming and screaming two year old generating it."

"Want mommy," little Molli stated as she toddled over with tears in her eyes.

Greg passed off the weepy child to his mother. "I'm better with the 'four years and up' variety."

"When is my Mommy gonna get here?" Madi asked. "I wanna show her the bunny I stuffed." Taking Greg's hand, she excitedly swung it. "And I want Mommy to meet you and eat our chicken pot pie."

Snuggling Molli close, Connie lied, "We just found out that your mommy has to stay at your aunt's house for a while longer. The good news is when your grandma called to tell us that news, she also said she was on her way home." When she saw Jillian walking into the kitchen from the garage entrance, she stood up with Molli in her arms. "Oh my goodness, look! There she is!" When she also saw Nick in the kitchen, she panicked and wondered if he'd strangle her in front of the children.

"Grandma!" The twins ran to get to her before their younger and older sisters.

"Welcome home." Greg beamed a smile in his partner's direction and spoke in code. "Everyone missed you terribly."

"I missed everyone terribly too." Restraining himself because of his nieces, Nick stepped forward and hugged meddling mother-in-law-to-be instead of Greg. "You shouldn't have come here behind my back, Constance," he whispered. "But I shouldn't have canceled the wedding. Wanna call it even?"

"Absolutely." Connie returned the embrace with vigor. "Welcome back, Nick." She kissed his cheek and sweetly whispered in his ear, "If you leave my son again I really will hunt you down and kill you."

"If I'm ever that stupid again, I'll stand still and beg you to shoot me."

As her four granddaughters hugged her tight, Jillian watched her mentally exhausted son silently long for affection from his partner.

Since touching and kissing was out of the question in front of the kids, Greg walked over to the fridge and grabbed a beer for his obviously stressed mate. "Hungry?" he asked while offering the bottle.

Lingering his fingers over Greg's, he nodded. "Yeah." He reluctantly stopped caressing his partner's fingers and claimed the bottle. "Whatever you made smells delicious, Connie."

"Madi and I made dinner, thank you very much." Greg showed off his apron.

"Oh how I wish I could," Nick laughed when he saw the words 'kiss the cook' embroidered on the front flap.

Feeling sorry for her son, Jillian said, "Honey, if you want to show Greg your old room for a few minutes, Connie and I can feed the girls. Go sit at the table, children!" Smiling at her son's partner, she said, "The room still has some of his childhood things and photos in it. It used to look like a teenager's room, but I switched back to a little boy theme after the first grandson was born."

Taking a seat at the table, Madi shared, "Boys sleep in Uncle Nicky's old room and girls sleep in Aunt Kimmie's."

"Thanks, Mom." Nick took off, waving for Greg to follow him. "Wait 'til you see my kindergarten picture."

When she saw Connie holding the pot pie and gaping at her, Jillian said, "I don't want to get into details with the girls present, so I'm just going to say that I no longer believe Nicky has a choice in the matter."

"Was it something I said?" the proud PFLAG activist asked as she set the pie on the table next to the tossed green salad Madi had made.

"No, I realized that he wouldn't volunteer to suffer for decades if he had other options."

Connie burst into a smile. "I don't care how you came to that conclusion, I'm just glad you did."

"I'm still worried about his salvation," Jillian sighed as she took a seat at the table with her granddaughters. "And I'll continue worryin' until the Lord sends me a sign sayin' what Nicky is doing is normal. Who wants to say grace?"

"Me!" Madi folded her hands and bowed her heads. "Thank you God for this food…and for us gettin' to build bears and bunnies today…and for makin' yummy toppings to go on ice cream…and for Uncle Nicky comin' to visit and bringin' Greg. Amen."

"Amen," the dinner guests echoed.

"Grandma," Madi said as she spread her napkin on her lap, "Daddy told me to spend the day tellin' Uncle Nicky to find a wife and make cousins to play with us at Christmas, but I don't want Uncle Nicky to bring a wife at Christmas, I want him to bring Greg, 'cause Greg is fun and I already have lots of cousins, and Mommy's brother found a wife last year and she's not fun…and she bought me ugly clothes for my birthday. Daddy says she can't help bein' a loser 'cause she went to UT, but I think she hates kids. Greg likes kids and he likes wearin' aprons and knows how to make pot pie, so he's kinda like a wife, only funner. Bert doesn't have a wife, he has an Ernie, so can Uncle Nicky just have a Greg?"

"There's your sign, Jill. God's letting the little children lead you." While slicing the pie, Connie cheerily hummed, Jesus loves the little children.

Patting her granddaughter's hand, Jillian smiled, "I like Greg too. His mother's a bit too wacky for my taste, but I do believe her heart's in the right place."

* * *

"I can't believe your mom told you to bring me up to your bedroom." Greg laughed like a giddy school boy as they raced down the hall. "I was waiting for her to tuck a condom in your pocket."

"That would be somethin' your mom would do," Nick droned as he opened the door to his old room.

"Did! Whenever I left the house on the weekend…all two times."

"Hug me," Nick pleaded as soon as he shut his bedroom door. "I really need it." He dropped onto one of the twin beds and opened his arms. "And don't let go 'til I say stop."

"Going Dom in your childhood boudoir? That's pretty kinky for you, Tex." Smiling, Greg slid next to his partner and pulled him close. "That bad of an afternoon, huh?"

"I honestly don't even know where to start." Nick closed his eyes. "It was a friggin' rollercoaster ride. My brother went from bashin' me and callin' you a butt-munch, to cryin' and huggin' me, sayin' he doesn't care if I let you pound my ass, he's still gonna be my brother and love me."

"Billy reeeeally has a way with words."

"Yeah." Nick suddenly yawned. "Sorry, I'm beat."

"You? I had to look after four little girls and make dinner." Greg laughed, "Don't even think of asking me to put out tonight."

"Hell, I just want to chill out, drink beer, and watch the Aggie game on Tivo. My folks always record the games, so…"

"I can't believe they lost 21 to 41."

"Sanders!" Nick bolted up in bed. "I thought we cleared this up years ago! I never want to know the outcome of a game I didn't watch yet."

"I figured today was different because we're** in** Texas and people around you would be talking about the game." Using his puppy dog eyes to get him out of trouble, Greg jokingly whimpered, "Okay, I'll put out."

"Not here."

"No." Greg glanced around at all the little cowboy toys, stuffed horses, and photos of grandsons. "That would be squicky."

"Yeah." The rebellious son, grinned, "You can top me in my dad's office after everyone's asleep."

"What?!" Greg shook his head. "No way. Knowing your luck, your father would come home from his camping trip early, walk in on us, and kill me."

Appealing to his partner's kinks and political views, Nicky wiggled his brows and jokingly said, "We can do it right in front of his photo wall…he's got pictures with President Bush, both of 'em actually, and there's one of him and James Dobson."

"Whoa. That's like mental Viagra."

"I figured it would be, ya little perv." Nick settled back against the pillows. "Now get back to huggin' me, 'cause I had a rough day."

Spooning his partner, Greg joked, "You calling with updates while I was home chasing kids and baking made me feel so 'June Cleaver holding down the fort for her man'."

"Mmm." Nick closed his eyes and purred as his mate curled up against his body. "I'm glad you only borrowed my mother's apron and not her pumps and pearls."

"I thought about it, but when Ernie dressed up in Bert's mother's clothes the Sesame Street kids got a little freaked, so I decided it might traumatize the girls."

"I definitely missed that very special episode."

"You can't fall asleep before dinner." Greg poked him in the ribs. "Not after I slaved over a hot stove all day, Mister."

Intent on snoozing, Nick said, "Relax, June, we have this thing called a microwave now."

"Seriously, your mother is going to think we're being naughty if we're gone too long."

* * *

"It's been almost an hour," Jillian whispered to Connie as they rinsed and loaded the dishes. "I just wanted to give them time to greet each other in private, not…"

"They're probably sleeping."

"This early?"

"They would normally sleep from noon to seven and their rhythms get messed up when they try to stay awake during the day."

"Right, right, I always forget about that." Jillian dried her hands on a dish towel. "Just to be safe, before I send the girls to sleep in the next room I want to make sure the boys aren't…you know…making noises." While Connie laughed, she said, "Keep the girls here until I get back!"

When Jillian arrived at her son's bedroom door, she paused and appreciated the silence. "Nicky?" she called out. "Don't you want dinner, sweetheart?" When she didn't get a reply, she tried the knob. Figuring they would have locked it before getting frisky, she felt safe opening the door.

They were innocently sleeping. "Connie was right." The sight of her son being spooned by another man was both awkward and comforting.

Considering how much trauma Nick had endured in his lifetime, it was ultimately a relief to know he was loved and appreciated, even if the special person in his life wasn't anything like she had dreamed. "Sleep well," she whispered before locking the knob from the inside, stepping out of the room, and closing the door. "Just in case the girls come looking for you." She shook her head as she walked down the hall. "They never showed Bert and Ernie sleeping like that."

* * *

**ANs: **

UPDATE to ANs on 2/8 - Sorry it's taking so long for the next chapter! I'm half way there, but still catching up on Real Life stuff that piled up when we were taking turns being sick.

UPDATE to ANs on 1/29 - The family and I have been taking turns getting the stomach flu and nasty colds, so the next chapter is delayed. Sorry for the delay :(

Is it the end of the storm or the eye of the hurricane?

Just to clarify since I got an email - UT in the context of 'Daddy says she can't help bein' a loser 'cause she went to UT' means University of Texas not the state of Utah. And that's hardcore Aggie alum Billy Stokes saying that in character, not me ;)

Thanks to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter : )

Sorry about the typos in the last two. I miss KJT!! Her work schedule and the time difference with Australia made it too difficult to chat regularly about the story and edit. The story is being edited, but things are still being missed. If you spot anything, feel free to alert me to correct it.

Hang in if you can. There are only 2 or 3 chapters left. :)

Thanks,  
Maggs


	23. Chapter 23

**Bleeding Love – Part 23**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

"All the kids are asleep," Jillian announced upon returning to the kitchen. "Including our sons."

"You peeked in the room?" Connie replied while perusing the bottles in the refrigerated wine cabinet.

"Yes."

"You weren't afraid you'd see something you couldn't handle?"

"I knocked first." Grabbing two wine glasses from the wet bar, the weary mother said, "Honestly it was a little shocking to see them spoonin' on top of the covers. I've never seen two men snugglin' together and the last time I saw Nicky holdin' something in bed, he was a little boy clutchin' a stuffed horse."

"It's perfectly normal for a parent to feel awkward with everything at first. Even my socially liberal husband was unnerved when he walked in on the boys kissing in the kitchen." Connie chuckled, "But not nearly as unnerved as your son was about getting caught in a lusty lip lock."

While desperately trying to block the visual of Nick and Greg smooching, Jillian set the wine glasses on the counter. "I've had a rough day, so please fill mine to the brim."

"I wouldn't blame you for chugging from the bottle." After selecting the best of the horrible choices, the California wine snob reached for the opener. "The next time I visit, I'll bring you a few bottles from my favorite vineyard."

"Next time?" Jillian couldn't imagine her husband inviting their gay son's parents for a visit. "You think we're just gonna be one big happy family from here on out?"

"One big dysfunctional family is more like it." Connie skillfully opened the Pinot Grigio bottle.

"Two days ago I thought my family was perfectly normal."

"Two days ago you were delusional." Sighing, Connie filled both glasses. "No one is perfect and there's no such thing as a normal family. Your supposedly normal son and daughter-in-law were living a supposedly perfect life, but in reality they were two imperfect people living behind a façade of perfection." Handing over a glass, she said, "You're lucky it worked out with both of them alive. Nick and Greg have worked a lot of domestic freak-out calls with extremely unhappy endings."

* * *

"I love you so much," Billy whispered as he clutched his wife's hand. "Please stop apologizin' for losin' the baby. It's not your fault, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong. I felt guilty too, for pushin' to try again so soon, but the doctor confirmed this would've happened no matter how long we waited." Squeezing her hand, he tearfully said, "We need to be grateful for the five healthy children we have and not question God's plan for our family. What happened today was awful, but we're still incredibly blessed, right?"

Maci nodded as she cried.

"Almost losin' you was a real wake up call for me." Leaning in closer, Billy brushed away his wife's tears. "I haven't been a good husband or father. You're a saint and I've been a self-absorbed asshole."

"Not a saint," Maci meekly replied, "I busted up the house today. I think I broke every piece of china."

"Believe me, I don't blame you for bein' pissed enough to break every dish in the house. After hearin' what Nicky had to say about my behavior over the years, I'd say you were more than justified, honey."

"You called Nicky for advice?" Finding it impossible to believe, she assumed her pain medication was making her confused.

"No, he just happened to be here. He flew into Dallas last night to visit my folks for the weekend."

* * *

"This was the first time Nick was on our boat." The happy memory made Connie smile. "The boys had three days off and Greg asked if we'd take them to Catalina Island." While opening a second bottle of wine, she explained, "Greg has a boating license, but not enough experience to operate a 37 footer like the Freyja in open water."

Studying a photo of her son drinking a beer on deck with his arm around Greg's shoulders, Jillian asked, "What does Freyja mean?"

"Norse goddess of sensual love."

"I'm sorry I asked." The anxious mother shook her head at a picture of her son gazing into his lover's eyes at sunset. "Y'all were comfortable sharin' The Love Boat?"

"No, we let the boys have the boat while we stayed in a room at our favorite B&B." Thinking of the colorful jokes her father had made about the situation, Connie laughed, "While my husband unconditionally loves and supports his gay son, he draws the line at being within earshot of his sex life. Greg's bedroom suite is in a far corner of our house in California, which allows for plenty of privacy. However, the plumbing and hot water heater in our home is rather quirky. When we're in the family room we can tell when a hot shower is started or a tub is being filled, so whenever the boys head to their room, my smart ass father starts the timer on his watch and stops it as soon as we can hear the hot water pipes rattle. Then he excitedly announces the results," she mimicked her father's voice, "'Only two minutes that time, I guess they're handling things in the shower tonight' or 'forty-seven minutes! Atta boy, Greg! He gets his stamina from our side of the family'."

Feeling tipsy enough to ask one of her many burning questions, Jillian whispered, "Is there any chance our boys…hmmm…how can I say this delicately? Is there a chance that they don't…"

"Go all the way?" Connie giggled, anticipating the squeamish mother's question.

"I was going to stay 'don't pass second base'." While holding out her glass for a refill, Jillian shared, "I remember hearin' on one of my talk shows that some homosexual men find non-penetrative forms of contact to be satisfying enough, so they don't go any further." Feeling embarrassed and awkward, she backpedaled, "Please forget I said that out loud."

"It's okay." Filling both of their glasses, the experienced PFLAG support mom flashed an empathetic smile. "You're not the first struggling mom to ask me that question with a hopeful lilt in her voice." Setting down the bottle, Connie relaxed against the couch cushions next to her friend. "I never tell a worried mom that her fears aren't real, because they are. I don't downplay the fact that unsafe sexual practices can lead to premature death, but what I also tell them is that while AIDS can take years or decades to kill someone, a violent gay bashing can do the job in minutes."

Jillian responded by gulping her wine.

"That's why it's critical to show your support and to speak out against hate and injustice whenever you can." Connie stepped firmly on her soapbox. "Every time you do nothing and let the people around you spew hatred, you're adding fuel to their fire. The more a person's feelings of hatred are encouraged, the greater the odds that their nasty words will escalate to physical violence." Squeezing Jillian's hand, Connie praised her, "Don't worry about accepting everything today. This morning Nick believed you'd stop loving him if he came out, but right now he's upstairs peacefully sleeping because he knows his mother unconditionally loves him. That's a great start."

"I don't feel so great." Jillian kicked off her shoes and set her feet on the coffee table. "Learnin' my eldest son was unfaithful has my stomach in knots and hearin' my youngest son is gay has my mind overwhelmed."

"I can help your overwhelmed mind and the wine will help your knots." Connie grabbed the bottle to refill the tormented woman's glass.

"I don't know. I usually only have one glass, but never more than two. If I drink this one you just poured me, it'll be my fourth."

"Which should be just enough liquid courage for you to ask all your burning questions." Connie returned the bottle to the table. "Seriously, you can say or ask me anything. After all these years as a PFLAG counselor, I guarantee I've heard it all."

Her lips loose from the Pinot Grigio, Jillian blurted, "You know why I find it so hard to believe that Nicky likes gettin' it in the bottom? Just the sight of the rectal thermometer used to send him runnin' away screamin' from the room when he was little."

After choking on her wine, Connie replied, "I take back what I said, that was the first time I've heard that one."

"And a rectal thermometer is smaller than a pencil," Jillian stated incredulously. "It has to feel much worse to have somethin' banana-size up there."

"I assume that means you've never let your husband put his banana…"

"Goodness no!" Jillian clutched her wine with one hand and her chest with the other. "And for the record, he's never asked me to let his banana in my back door."

Switching gears, Connie said, "Before today you believed Nick was a straight ladies man who slept around with women, right?"

"Yes."

"So the idea of Nick having meaningless sex with random Vegas women, who probably spread their legs for any hot guy who smiles at them, wasn't enough to keep you awake at night, but the thought of him being in a long-term committed relationship and making love with a wonderful disease-free guy like Greg is making you terribly distraught? That's not logical."

"No, it's not." Jillian stared into her half-empty wine glass. "Logically, I should be far more worried about Billy's secret liaisons with loose women in supply closets."

"Absolutely." Connie nodded. "Because he not only exposed himself to Closet Babe's germs, he hooked up with every sexual partner she's ever had…and how discriminating can she be if she drops to her knees for a married man with five kids and a pregnant wife at home?"

"That girl has met and served Maci at the club. She's seen Billy with his daughters!" Jillian's blood boiled. "Don't get me wrong, I'm **far** more angry with my cheatin' son, but don't you think it takes a special kind of tramp to sleep with a man when she **knows** he has a pregnant wife at home tendin' to his kids?"

"Yes, but I'm a little desensitized since that sort of thing happens in LA every sixty seconds."

"Right." Jillian shook her head.

"I can only speak for myself, but I'd much rather have my son getting the same healthy banana up his rear night after night than have him out on the town crossing his fingers that the over-sampled kiwi he just devoured in the dark wasn't rotten." Sighing, Connie shared, "Teaching in high school, I unfortunately got to hear a few tragic stories about sexual fun gone terribly wrong. Some kids refuse to believe that a perfectly healthy looking kiwi or banana can be ripe with unseen bacteria."

"Eww." The wine and her nerves got Jillian laughing. "I think I just permanently lost my appetite for bananas and kiwis."

"During his senior year of high school, my socially challenged and sexually confused son adored this gorgeous girl named Sierra; she was one of the most popular girls on campus. I came to school one morning and found out that she had been hospitalized to treat advanced Pelvic Inflammatory Disease. That's when I began lecturing Greg. I'd use medical textbook photos of infected body parts to back up my words. I'd point to them and say things like 'this guy thought he was the big man on campus until his penis was eaten away by bacteria' or 'this guy isn't seeing much action since his herpes breakout'. Once I learned he was gay, I added photos of men wasting aware from the ravages of AIDS."

"I'm sure that scared the heck out of him as a teenager."

"Yes," Connie proudly replied after a sip of wine. "He kept it in his pants until he was twenty-two. That's miraculous for a prep-school boy from LA."

"I have never discussed safe sex or anything sexual with Nicky. My husband and I divided the task. I talked to the girls, he talked to the boys." Sighing into her glass, Jillian said, "Fine job my husband did, huh? Lockin' away Nicky for lovin' a boy and encouragin' Billy's 'boys will boys' behavior no doubt led him to think he was above the law."

"We can't go back, Jilly! We can only go forward." Pointing to a happy photo, Connie said, "Sex is the ultimate expression of love when it's between two people who care deeply for one another. Try not to focus on the mechanics of your adult son's love life. Greg and Nick are two healthy monogamous young men who treat each other right in the bedroom. Just leave it at that."

"Are you sure they don't go to those nasty gay spas or…"

"Are you kidding? Living in Vegas they've seen and processed every icky sexual situation imaginable, so exhibitionism and playing with others is a turn off for them, not a turn on." Sensing the woman was skeptical, Connie substantiated her claim with an anecdote, "We were invited to a wedding in Vegas last year and the boys came to visit us. They thought it would be fun to give us a CSI demonstration. They had us put on glasses and then they used a special light that illuminates fluids left behind by previous guests. There were stains on the curtains, the chairs, the top of the mini fridge, even the phone book."

"The top of the mini fridge?" Jillian stated, cringing. "How unsanitary."

"He said that was tame compared to the no-tell motels in the city." Grabbing the remote control from the coffee table, Connie sighed, "After that eye-opener, I stopped sitting on hotel furniture in my thong."

"You wear thong undies? At your age? Really?"

Searching the 'On Demand' movie channel, Connie grinned, "Thanks to Karin, my Pilates instructor, and Jed, my hunky personal trainer, my ass looks better now than when I was twenty." Selecting the movie, she said, "I'm going to make a bold assumption and guess you've never watched Brokeback Mountain."

"The gay cowboy movie? No, but I've heard people talk about it." Jillian lunged for the Pinot Grigio. "I'm not ready to watch a gay sex movie."

"There's only twenty seconds of sex." Laughing, Connie hit the play button. "And I planned on sending you to the kitchen right before that part."

"Is there a lot of male nudity?"

"Unfortunately no. There's barely any." Connie rolled her eyes. "Only a man would film a love story about gay cowboys and show more tits than ass."

* * *

ANs:

The moms are bonding! Which will make the boys very happy.

Sorry this took forever and it's short! I wanted to post what I already had so readers wouldn't think I abandoned the story. I ended up needing a little outpatient surgery and had to take some time off and recovery. I'm doing great now and just getting back on track.

More chapters to follow : )

Thanks,

Maggs


	24. Chapter 24

**Bleeding Love – Part 24**

**Written By: Ms Maggs **

"Just look at that scenery," Jillian Stokes anxiously commented during the first minutes of _Brokeback Mountain_. "What a beautiful blue sky and those fluffy white clouds are gorgeous. I'm sure this film won cinematography awards. How could it not with that picturesque backdrop."

Connie Sanders smiled into her wine glass and let her nervous friend ramble.

Watching a young man jump out of the cab of an 18-wheeler, Jillian pointed to the screen. "That's Heath Ledger, right?"

"Yes."

"Such a shame him passin' on and leavin' his little girl behind. He was a very talented young man. I really enjoyed him in _The Patriot_. Wonderful film, if you haven't seen it, you should rent it, but make sure it's the historic film, and not the Steven Segal shoot 'em up movie, a friend of mine made that mistake." Sighing, Jillian shook her head. "I love readin' and watchin' historical films and that one was very well made. I recall Heath Ledger makin' me cry."

"Ten bucks says Heath makes you cry by the end of the movie."

"Oh, I'm sure I'll be cryin'," Jillian replied with a nod, "but thinkin' of Nicky, not Heath's character's problems."

"I think Heath's character's problem is Nick's problem."

"How's that?"

Pausing the movie, Connie quietly said, "Watching this film you'll see that Heath's character, Ennis Del Mar, is so traumatized and brainwashed by his father's unorthodox lessons on the perils of being openly gay, that no matter how much he loves and craves a life with his soul mate, he just can't bring himself to take the risk. He ends up choosing to go through life tormented and heartbroken because of his fears and he hurts a lot of people in the process of protecting himself, especially his soul mate. That's exactly what Nick's been doing over and over again - trying to live the life he wants, but panicking and going into self-preservation mode."

"How do you know so much about the situation?" Jillian asked, feeling sad that another mother knew more about her son than she did. "Did Nick confide in you?"

"No. Greg's a blabbermouth when he's heartbroken." Thinking of the first time her son appeared on her doorstep devastated over the schizophrenic Texan pulling the rug out from under him, Connie sank deeper into the plump couch cushions.

"_I don't understand, honey." Connie led her teary-eyed son into the family room. "When I spoke to you on Friday you sounded so happy and said everything was wonderful." _

"_I was happy," Greg sadly confirmed as he dropped onto the brown leather sofa. "Everything was wonderful. We spent the whole weekend talking about what kind of house we should buy and what kind of dog we would get after moving in and then…I got the mail today." _

_Connie's mind jumped to a dozen conclusions, none of which made sense. "What was in the mail that ruined everything?"_

"_A Christmas card from his brother," he answered in a vacant voice. "It was a photo card with a family update letter inside and his brother had stuck a post-it note on the card that said '__**Jealous of my perfect family, Nicky? Then stop screwing Sin City sluts and fucking get married already! How many kids do I need to have before you even try for number 1? Seriously, little bro, if another Christmas goes by without a photo card of you and a woman, Mom and Dad are gonna think you're queer!**__' He read the note and flipped out. First he was pacing and mumbling and then he started yelling that he was crazy for thinking we could live happily ever after. Before I could make sense of anything, he was saying it's over and running out the front door." _

"_Oh, honey." Connie pulled her distraught son in her arms. _

"_He left a voice mail saying he was sorry for ending things like he did, but to trust him that I was better off without him." Greg sniffled, "He's right, but I still want him." _

"The same scenario played out three times," Connie informed the stunned woman sharing the couch with her. "The second time the trigger was a phone call from his sister who was coming into town for a Christian convention and wanted to stay at his place for the week. The third time, last July, he seemed genuinely thrilled to be planning the wedding and then he flipped out and called the whole thing off. I don't know what the trigger was that time. I'm not even sure Greg knows."

"Now I understand why you were compelled to come here." Jillian placed a hand on Connie's shoulder. "It had to be torture watchin' your boy's heart break all those times."

"Honestly it was more painful watching Greg forgive Nick and take him back every time when I knew the happiness would be short-lived." Raising her wine glass, Connie toasted, "Here's to the third time finally being a charm, although technically it's not really their third reunion. There were dozens of mini-reunions in between their first night together and becoming an official couple. Greg laughs about it now and calls it their 'dysfunctional friends with privileges' stage." She unpaused the movie. "But just like Jack Twist, I believe Gregory got his hopes up and his heart broken with every mini-reunion."

* * *

**July 3, 2003 **

Sitting in the middle of his comfy king-size bed furiously typing on his lap top, Greg was startled by an authoritative knock on his studio apartment door. "One minute!" he shouted while climbing over the file folders surrounding him. "Be right there!" Expecting to discover his mother making another surprise visit to check on his recovery, he peered through the peephole with trepidation. "Tex?" Dressed in a maroon Aggie t-shirt and grey gym shorts, he looked like he was out for a run.

"Open up, Greggo!" Nick held up a bulging In and Out Burger bag. "I was on my way to the gym and decided to bring you some food."

"Uh." As much as he didn't need another round of Stokes-induced drama in his life, Greg's appetite for burgers and companionship compelled him to open the door. "If I knew you were coming, I would have cleaned up the place." Realizing he was wearing rumpled navy blue boxers and a Panic at the Disco t-shirt, he added, "And put on some pants."

"Don't worry about the pants," Nick replied with a wink.

"So these are 'booty call burgers'," Greg stated, forcing a laugh.

"No, you don't have to worry about puttin' on pants 'cause I've already seen ya naked and explored every inch of you dozens of times. Modesty is moot at this point."

"True."

"These are thank you burgers, Greggo." The grateful friend explained, "I was losin' my mind over the Morrison case and you really helped me out."

"For that?" The disappointed lover shrugged. "I was just doing my job."

"I'm not talkin' about the DNA results. I mean for calmin' me down when you saw I was tore up over the case." Against his better judgment Nick said exactly what he was thinking. "Thanks for carin' about me. I don't deserve it, you shouldn't do it, but I really needed it, so…thanks." Smiling, he handed over the bag of food

Falling in love all over again, Greg accepted the treat with a goofy grin. "Any time." Then he waited for the usual unenthusiastic goodbye, which he would promptly halt.

"Okay, well…" Nick checked his watch and half-heartedly announced, "I guess I better head to the gym and…"

"Why does it feel like there are four burgers in this bag?"

"Because I bought four." The lonely man shrugged. "I wasn't sure how hungry you'd be and I didn't want look cheap when I was sayin' thanks. If you're not gonna eat all of 'em, I suppose I could take one or two off your hands."

"Want a beer with your burgers?"

"Definitely."

Greg shut the door grinning.

Relieved that he wasn't asked to leave, Nick followed his buddy into the kitchen. "And a side order of whiskey if you have it."

"Uh, I might." He always kept a full bottle of JD on hand for impromptu visits from his on-again, off-again lover. "Check the cabinet to the left of the fridge."

"Found it!"

"Do want a glass for that?"

"Nope."

When he saw the bottle was already in the cowboy's mouth, Greg gave up looking for a clean glass in his messy kitchen. "You know I'm gonna have to take your car keys if you keep chugging."

"Yep." Nick tilted the bottle and took another huge gulp.

"I guess that case really got under your skin." The ones involving child victims always did. "I know what happened to that little boy was awful, but at least you nailed the kid's uncle for…"

"I don't want to discuss the case." After a swig, the tormented man confessed, "If I wanted to think about the case I woulda stayed home. I came here to forget the case…and all the other shit in my head." He tossed his keys on the counter and kicked off his running shoes. "I just want to chill out with you."

"Okay then." Greg plopped down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. "We'll eat burgers, drink beer, and talk about sports."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I need." Nick took a seat on the remaining bar stool. "Hearin' you talk about sports is bound to cheer me up."

"Did you happen to catch the ping-pong scores this morning?" the geek joked.

"I only follow ping-pong during the Olympics."

Handing over two burgers, Greg tried a second attempt at humor, "Did the Cowboys win this weekend?"

"It's **baseball** season, dork."

"I was kidding."

"Sure you were." Nick unwrapped his burger and dug in.

Abruptly switching topics, Greg asked, "Hey, do you think Mandy was wearing that white shiny dress on purpose or did she lose a bet?"

After nearly choking on his burger, Nick chuckled, "I was wonderin' the same thing earlier today, but then I overheard Judy say they went shoppin' together over the weekend. Can you believe Mandy actually paid two hundred bucks for that thing?"

"Was she on an acid trip at the time?"

"No, apparently sweet little Mandy has a crush on this guy from the DA's office that she keeps bumpin' into at Starbucks. She wanted to update her look before hittin' on him."

"Update her look?" Greg snickered, "To when? The year 2085 when we've used up all organic clothing options and have to wear clothes made out of unrecyclable kitchen trash bags?"

"See, I knew you'd get me laughing."

"For Mandy's sake I hope the guy chose to give up caffeine today and went to Jamba Juice."

"Straight guys probably think it's a hot look."

"Then I must have moved up a few notches on the Kinsey scale." In between chomps of his burger, Greg tossed out a new topic, "Speaking of sexual confusion, I'm really starting to wonder about Grissom. Sara's done everything but strip naked and dance on his desk, but the guy won't give her the time of day."

"She needs to move on. If she were my sister, I'd tell her that to her face." Crumbling his burger wrapper, Nick shook his head. "If Sara gettin' hurt in the lab explosion didn't make Griss realize he wants to spend the rest of his life with her, it's not gonna happen."

"Yeah." Suddenly losing his appetite, Greg returned his half-eaten burger to the bag. "If a guy doesn't commit after a near-death experience, it's pretty obvious he doesn't want a relationship. Only a fool would hold out hope after that."

Realizing he had stuck his foot in his mouth, Nick remained silent.

"I'll take some of that whiskey now."

"G…"

"No, really, we're good. I'm just tired. Ignore me." With the JD bottle in hand, Greg headed for his bed to hide behind his laptop. "I hate to be rude, but I was in the middle of tweaking my paper when you knocked. You can still chill out here. Beer's in the fridge, remote's on the couch."

"I uh…I think I'll just use the bathroom and head out."

Without looking up from his keyboard, Greg stoically replied, "Whatever." When he heard the bathroom door shut, he released the breath he was holding. "I **really** hate him," he muttered, "almost as much as I love him. Dammit!" Nick had been so attentive in the days following the lab explosion, but just when it seemed like they might be hooking up for the long haul, the skittish Texan retreated. "I'm an idiot for letting him in." Gently scratching his suddenly itchy skin grafts, he plotted what he would he should say when the heartless asshole emerged from the bathroom. _The next time you need a shoulder, drive to Texas! Yeah, you heard me! If your family is so much more important to you then me, run to them when you're hurting or lonely! Screw a sheep when you're horny! I don't care! Just don't come here with your burgers and puppy dog eyes and…_

"Stop it!"

The booming voice snapped Greg back to reality. _Was I speaking out loud? _ "Stop what?"

"You were scratchin' your back like a madman." Approaching the bed, Nick scolded, "The doctor told you to go easy for six months or you'd damage the grafts. Have you been puttin' the lotion on like you're supposed to?"

"Yeah, but it's hard to reach some of the spots."

Nick glanced around for the jar that used to be on the nightstand. "Where's your stuff?"

"Don't you have a gym to get to, Jocko?"

"Let me help you first."

His emotions boiling to the surface, Greg yelled, "No! I don't need yourhelp or your burgers! And what I** really** don't need is you showing up here once a month under some **dumbass premise**! If you have a rough day and need to get off, then all you have to do is call me and ask 'are you up for a quickie, Sanders?' You were abused as a kid, manhandled by your brother's roommate, and stalked by a psycho last year, so I totally understand why you're paranoid about dropping your pants for strangers. I don't mind being the only guy you trust to top you. I will happily screw you, no strings attached. Just don't come here and pretend you're my boyfriend or that you care about anything besides your own ass, because **that **pisses me off!"

Stunned by the uncharacteristic outburst, Nick stammered, "I…uh…wow."

"Yeah, I'm just as shocked as you." Greg steadied himself with a breath. "I can't believe I actually had the balls to say all that."

"G, c'mon, if I just wanted to get…"

"Don't say it," the exhausted lover warned, "because I know what you're gonna say and it doesn't make sense to me."

"Okay, fine, it doesn't make sense to you, but that doesn't mean I'm lyin' when I say it!"

When he saw his buddy was choking up, Greg averted his eyes. "Why do you keep putting us through this bullshit?"

"If I could do better I would, believe me I would." Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Nick whispered, "I keep comin' here hopin' that after feelin' how perfect everything is with you, I'll be able to get over the shit in my head and move forward."

"But then you change your mind."

"No, I don't, that's what's so fucked up," Nick tearfully explained, "I wanna be with you. Everything I said to you after the lab explosion was true. It was still true when I was walkin' out the door the last time. It's still true now, but I just can't…I want to, but I can't."

"That makes no sense."

"I know." Holding his head, Nick whispered, "I don't know what's wrong, but I know it's not you. You're the only thing that's right in my life and that's why I can't stay away even though I know it's shitty to keep showin' up here for the three days every month when we have mutual time off."

Greg nodded while staring at his blurry laptop screen. "It's totally shitty,"

"I'm a messed up prick with a ton of baggage and no guts."

"Yeah, well…it's like you didn't warn me from day one."

"If you want me to go and never come here again, I swear, I'll stay away. Just say the words."

When their eyes met, Greg heaved a complacent sigh. "Even though I want to and know I should…I can't."

"How does that make more sense than what I said about me?"

"It doesn't. We're mutually dysfunctional idiots in a totally dysfunctional relationship."

His lips spreading into a smile, Nick winked, "That's better than nothin', right?"

"Yeah, three days of intense romance and sex every month is way more than Sara's getting so who am I to complain?" Laughing so he wouldn't cry, Greg tossed his shirt. "The cocoa butter's in the nightstand drawer."

Nick quickly extracted the jar and twisted open the lid.

"Thanks." Greg sighed with relief as the cool cocoa butter was gently massaged into his sensitive skin. "Yeah, right there. Mmm."

"I love the smell of this stuff."

"It reminds me of being in Hawaii."

"I've never been." Nick reached into the jar for another scoop. "It's on my list though."

"One day, when your baggage is unpacked and you realize you can't live without me, I'll take you to Hawaii to celebrate the milestone."

"It's a date."

"I'm serious. My folks have a time share in Maui." Turning to face his reluctant boyfriend, Greg spoke with a hopeful lilt, "Maybe the promise of a free vacation in paradise will motivate you to figure things out a little faster."

"Maybe," Nick replied with little confidence as he lovingly continued the therapeutic massage.

"That feels really good," Greg moaned.

* * *

"Are they gonna have sex?" Jillian covered her eyes until she got an answer.

"Soon, but not yet. I promise I'll warn you."

Lowering her hands from her face the anxious conservative continued viewing the film. "They're definitely gettin' chummier."

Connie laughed, "I honestly think you'd be less nervous if I told you there was a love scene between Jack and a sheep."

"Yes, because that sort of behavior happens on ranches all the time." When she saw her friend gaping, Jillian smiled, "That was a joke, dear."

The California girl had her doubts.

"All kiddin' aside, Connie, don't you think the isolation and the abundance of Jack Daniels is playin' a significant role in bringin' these young men together? Would they really be attracted to one another if they weren't drunk and holed up alone?"

* * *

**July 3, 2003 **

"There goes the whiskey bottle," Greg announced as he attempted to grab lube and a condom from his nightstand drawer without dislodging Nick from between his thighs. "Luckily we drank it dry." The pleasure mounting to a dangerous level, he abruptly pulled away from his lover's mouth. "Sorry, but if I didn't end the foreplay, there wasn't going to be any play."

"Mmm, thanks for thinkin' of me, honey." Nick initiated a lusty kiss as he snatched the condom and hastily shucked the wrapper.

"Don't touch me!"

"Now what did I say to piss ya off?!" the confused lover blurted. "And can we please argue about it after?"

"I'm not pissed." Greg burst into drunken laughter. "I was close."

"Is this horny teenager phase ever gonna end?"

"Yeah, yeah, you won't be complaining when I'm ready to go again in twenty minutes." Greg grabbed the condom and tube from his partner's hand and took care of business. "I'm sure I'd have better control if we had a marathon every week, instead of every month." Without warning, he slipped behind his lover and thrust straight into love making.

Caught off guard, Nick grunted and grabbed the bedding. "What the hell, Sanders? Slow down."

"No." Greg shoved his lover's face into a pillow. "Loving you is a pain in the ass and I'm looking for a little empathy."

Nick panted, "Seriously, I need a sec." When his second request for mercy was ignored, the tightly-wound control freak closed his eyes and gave into the rare joy of being submissive. Within minutes, he was writhing from the pleasure and begging his partner for more.

"There's the empathy I was looking for." Pleased with the urgent groans and tortured gasps filling the room, Greg turned up the heat. "The pleasure made you forget how badly you were hurting. That's** exactly** how I feel every time you show up here."

Surprised to find himself close to the edge so quickly, Nick let out a pre-ecstasy squeak, "I'm…"

* * *

"Speechless!" Jillian exclaimed from the entrance to the kitchen. "Really, I don't know what to say!"

Connie paused the movie and whirled around. "You said you were going to the kitchen."

"I had to know."

"You stood there watching the love scene on the sly like a curious teenager?"

"**Love** scene? You saw **love**?" The appalled mother clutched the pearls around her neck. "I saw nothin' of the sort. That was animal sex, complete with primal noises and rabid pawing. No wonder Ginnie Arbagast ran out of the theater and demanded her money back. My God in heaven, that's really how it is?! That's what Nicky does between the sheets with your son? Why on Earth would he choose** that** over makin' sweet love to a woman?""

"See, that's the problem. If you stop watching after that scene, you can't possibly understand why that scene happened." Connie patted the couch cushion. "But if you can sit down and temporarily suspend your disgust, you'll see that Ennis is confused, embarrassed, and sorry about what he did. His repressed feelings got the best of him, just as the whiskey uninhibited him, and then opportunity knocked." She smiled, "Yes, it would have been nice if they could have talked things out first, but as we learned in the first part of the film, Ennis isn't much of a talker."

"I can't imagine feelin' any worse than I do right now, so…" Jillian returned to her spot on the couch. "Nicky has such a gentle, romantic soul. I was hopin' to see love and tenderness is possible between two men."

"Keep watching."

* * *

**July 3, 2003 **

"Sorry," Greg breathed out when he collapsed onto the covers next to his spent lover. "I guess I was still kinda pissed at you."

"Yeah?" Propping up on his elbow, Nick chuckled, "Well then you just gave me a really good reason to piss you off more often."

"Was I good?" the perpetually self-conscious lover needed to ask.

"No."

"Oh."

"You were great." Nick accentuated his answer with a slow, wet kiss. "Perfect," he murmured when their lips parted. "Every ounce of tension is gone and I'm completely relaxed." He snuggled closer. "God, I missed you."

"You don't have to. It could be like this all the time," Greg whispered, using the vulnerable post-coital moment to prop his agenda. "We could…" When his mouth was abruptly consumed with another passionate kiss he took the hint and dropped the subject_. It is what it is_, he told himself, _and it'll stay what it is until it's something more or nothing at all._ Whatever happened in the future, he doubted it would be his choice.

* * *

Handing Jillian another tissue, Connie said, "I told you Heath would make you cry by the end of the movie."

"All he has is Jack's shirt and memories of happier times on Brokeback Mountain."

"And two daughters who don't understand him and an ex-wife who loathes him for lying to him all those years."

The overwhelmed mother shook her head as she dabbed her eyes. "What a mess."

"Tragic and completely unnecessary."

"But those were the times."

Connie gaped at the conservative woman who had been spewing anti-gay rhetoric only days ago. "Things are better, but there's still a long way to go. Our sons just had their right to marry stripped away by a bunch of homophobes."

"True, but things could be much worse." Jillian's train of thought was interrupted by the sound of the back door opening. "Billy must be back from the hospital. I bet he's hungry. Turn off the movie while I distract him."

"Jilly, I'm home early!" Bill Stokes shouted from the kitchen.

The two women froze and then Jillian whisper-screamed "Turn off the movie! Hurry! My God, the boys are sleeping together upstairs! How are we…"

"I figured we had company when I saw rental cars in the driveway." The gentleman removed his cowboy hat. "Howdy." The jittery woman standing in front of him looked vaguely familiar. "Have we met before?"

"Yes," Connie peeped before falling speechless for the first time in her life.

"She's a friend of the family, dear." Jillian tried not to panic. "Connie Sanders. We haven't seen her in years though."

"Then it's nice to see you again, Connie." Judge Stokes extended his hand. "Forgive me for being forgetful. It probably doesn't help that I'm exhausted. I hope you'll give me a pass tonight and we can get properly reacquainted in the morning."

"Absolutely."

Jillian patted her husband's arm. "Maybe you should go right to bed, dear."

"Look who I found tapping me on the shoulder," Greg cheerily announced as he carried Madi into the family room. "She had a nightmare and…" The sight of Judge Stokes staring at him made his heart skip three beats. "Hopefully I'm having a nightmare too."

Connie moved toward the fireplace tools in case she had to grab a poker and defend her son.

"I recognize you." Judge Stokes approached his son's co-worker with a warm smile and an outstretched hand. "I met you at the Crime Lab when Nicholas was abducted. Thankfully today's circumstances are more pleasant."

"Nice to see you again, Sir."

"Same here." The judge nodded. "But I'm afraid you'll have to tell me your name again."

Madi helped out her grandpa, "He's Greg Sanders, Uncle Nicky's very special friend."

"Yes, I bet he is very special to your Uncle Nicky." Judge Stokes smiled at his granddaughter. "Greg helped rescue your uncle when a bad man took him and was hurting him."

Upon hearing the innocent interpretation, Connie and Jillian exchanged hopeful glances.

After processing her grandfather's statement, Madi asked Greg, "Is that why you were snugglin' Uncle Nicky so tight in bed when I woke ya up? Are ya afraid the bad man is gonna try and take him while he's sleeping?"

"Uh." Greg desperately looked to his mommy for an answer.

Even though she was scared for her son's life, Connie couldn't resist the opportunity to snark, "Oh, sure, **now** you want me to meddle."

* * *

**ANs: **

Yay for Spring Break and a little free time! I finally got another chapter out. Hopefully another before break ends!

Thanks for sticking around : )

Maggs


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